See You Tonight
by abbeyrose92
Summary: Abbey leaves her small town to go to sunny California, for seemingly no reason other than boredom, but her past just may prove to be more complex, than at first glance. After she meets Tré Cool, after months of living on the beach, who insists on aiding her in the rehabilitation of her life, she begins to learn that making your own way in California is tougher than she had ever ima
1. 8th Avenue Serenade

She walked quietly through the unfamiliar landscape, the streaks of California sunset long gone to the night. Dejectedly, she found herself circling the same four blocks, again and again. She laughed bitterly thinking, 'I guess I'm the kind of person can be lonely just about anywhere.' She didn't feel unsafe here, but she felt an enormous separateness she'd not once felt before.

She had long since memorized the layout of these four blocks despite at no time observing the names of the streets. It was a deli here, a Laundromat there; a stereotypical cityscape. The solitary thing out of place, therefore, the lone thing of interest to her was a dimly lit bar, cigarette smoke seeming to ooze from every crevice of the brick building.

The flickering neon sign above the door read 'harlie's' since the C seemingly was long ago burnt out, adorned with an equally blinking cocktail glass, sloshing side to side. She observed it in passing many times. It didn't seem a particularly lively place nor dangerous, exactly the conditions she needed, yet she walked by once again, not ready to face humanity quite yet.

As she continued around the blocks, she pondered exactly the circumstances that had brought her here, to this place. It was classic escapism, really. Life in the Midwest had been dull and dissatisfying, so like any other misguided youth; she sought refuge in the great Unknown. She didn't regret her decision, not really. She only wished she had thought things through before she ended up sleeping on the beach without a friend in sight.

'Maybe,' she thought pulling her leather jacket tighter; despite the heat, 'it's time I made a friend.' Finally, she had made her way back to 'harlie's' and stood facing the smoking building , facing down her fear. She stepped forward and pushed the squealing door open. She felt eyes probing her visage and felt acutely aware of her Converse, leather jacket and red jeans as she sat down at the bar.

She looked at her surroundings a moment, noticing that hardly anyone in the place was under 60 and every few seconds someone hacked, with an evident smoker's cough. Though the faces around her didn't seem inherently unfriendly, it was clear that her presence was an unusual sight to them. The fingers of her delicate hand suddenly became quite interesting.

She looked up at the sound of a throat clearing, before her. She gazed upon a kindly looking woman, her hair bluish and bushy; her face wrinkled with age. Her eyes crinkled in an uncertain smile.

"Hey there, dear," she said in a scratchy, southern tone, probably thanks to the cigarette smoke, "what'll it be?" She stared back blankly. She actually thought she was allowed to just sit.

"Uh, I-I'll have a beer, please," she told her, mentally facepalming herself, she hated beer. At the sound of manners, the elderly barkeep audibly breathed a sigh of relief, before turning on the tap to fill a glass.

She sat the sweating glass in front of her before a rotund man with a large beard called, "Tracy, can I get one for the road?" You could practically smell him from down the bar.

Tracy filled a glass with water and placed it before him.

"Now, Murph, we both know you've had enough," she told him firmly, "now drink this and get on home." She liked Tracy for this. Murph grumbled but did as he was told.

She took a sip of the beer before her and winced at the bitter taste. Tracy laughed, turning to the bottles before replacing the beer with something red and fruity looking.

"I didn't think you looked like the beer type," she told her, "what's your name, girl?"

She sipped the drink, smiling at the milder taste, "my name's Abbey."

"Pretty name," Tracy said sweeping a rag over the bar, "short for anything?" Abbey laughed. This was a common misconception.

"Nope," she told Tracy, "just plain old Abbey with an 'E'."

"Nonetheless," Tracy said, smiling as Abbey took a gulp of her drink, "you're not lookin' for that fella over there, are ya?" She flicked her thump towards a booth in the back corner.

A man sat a beer bottle in hand, all by his lonesome.

"No," she told Tracy, "just kind of stumbled in," Although, she could see why one might think so, like her, he wore a pair of black Chuck Taylor's and a leather jacket, both of which were much nicer than hers.

Recognition hit her.

However, I think I know who he is," she told Tracy, idly stirring her drink with a straw.

"A friend of yours?" Tracy asked already preparing another red drink.

"No, he's pretty famous, actually?" Abbey told her downing the fruity concoction.

"For what?" Tracy asked disbelievingly, placing the finished drink in front of Abbey.

"He's the drummer of a band called Green Day," Abbey told her knowledgeably, in a hushed tone.

"Green Day, huh? I think my granddaughter likes them," Tracy replied, quite loudly.

At the mention of Green Day, the man tensed up. Abbey knew why, of course. One could never be careful enough with the eyes of publicity awaiting your ever failure.

Tracy also seemed to notice his sudden intensity because she added in a conspirator's tone, "I think he's shy." 'Far from it,' Abbey thought, although his calmness was disquieting to her.

"So, is this Green Day any good?" Tracy asked Abbey in a hushed voice. Abbey found herself wondering if Tracy had nothing better to do as Murph tipped his hat to her and lumber from the door, leaving Abbey noticing the sudden lack of patrons as the jukebox began a lonely sounding tune.

She nodded to Tracy emphatically, "I like them a lot."

"How about this drummer?" Tracy nodded his way, "should I be worried?"

Abbey laughed.

"He used to have quite the wild streak," she said, "but he seems pretty tame, now. I also like him a lot." Tracy grinned and sat upon a tall stood on the opposite side of the bar.

"That man looks old enough to be your father," she said with a chuckle, cleaning a glass with her rag.

Abbey shrugged. She knew Tracy's words were true but could not explain as she thought over everything she knew about him and endeared him to her. Tracy smiled warily and patted her hand.

"You're crazy about this man, huh?" She asked Abbey, knowingly. Abbey nodded rapidly, embarrassed over her transparency.

"He has no idea I exist, though," Abbey admitted, wondered how her train of thought so hastily changed.

"Ain't nothing wrong with admiring from afar," Tracy told her with a grin, "what's his name?"

"T-Tré," Abbey told her suspiciously.

"Tré!" Tracy called suddenly. Abbey's cheeks flushed red. Tré too looked taken aback by the sudden recognition of this old biddy.

"You've been nursin' that bottle a long time," she observed in a sharp tone, "Why don'tcha come get another?" Tré sat stunned a moment before nodding and heading towards the bar. Abbey's mouth hung agape a moment before she remembered her manners. Tracy smiled and grabbed a bottle from beneath the bar.

Tré came to stand beside Abbey, still looking bewildered. Tracy held the bottle over the bar towards him, and as he reached forward she let go and sent it to the floor where it smashed to pieces

"Clumsy me," Tracy laughed, "I gotta go get a towel from the back. This is Abbey; keep her company, will ya?" She rushed away before either of them could object.

Tré smiled and sat on the stool on Abbey's other side.

"Clever old gal," he said to Abbey with a laugh.

"W-what do you mean?" Abbey asked him nervously.

"She had a towel in her apron," Tré said bursting into laughter, tickled by this observation. Abbey laughed too.

"So, Abbey, huh?" He inquired, his light-blue eyes piercing her green ones. She nodded feeling her cheeks redden at the sound of her name on his lips. He held out his hand, and she took it, finding it surprisingly soft.

His blue eyes twinkled in the dim, smoky light. "I'm Tré Cool but I guess you already knew that."


	2. Carpe Diem

Abbey blushed at the suggestion that she had peaked Tracy's interest in him. She swept a curl behind her ear and looked at him a moment. He was not exactly the man who had captured her heart from afar, in her teenage years; his fingers unpolished, no dark eyeliner beneath his clear blue eyes, his auburn hair ungelled and limp, and his round face beginning to age, yet she found herself beaming in adoration at him.

He cleared his throat after a moment, and she realized she had been staring.

"I'm so sorry," she admitted her cheeks pink, "this kind of thing has never happened to me."

"You mean you don't usually stare at men with a glazed look in your eye?" Tré asked her with a chuckle. Abbey's cheeks flushed.

"N-no, I meant you don't usually walk into a bar to find one of your musical heroes sitting alone, a beer in hand," she told him earnestly, taking a large drink of her fruit concoction.

"Meh," he said looking her in the eye, "I'm not a big deal."

Once again, Abbey's jaw dropped.

"Not a big deal?" she asked incredulously, "I have no clue who I'd be without your influence." Tré smiled but rolled his eyes.

"I'm not exactly a good influence," he told her calmly. Abbey looked at him in disbelief as Tracy began to mop up the smelly mess beside her.

"You're not going all midlife crisis on me," she asked him sheepishly, "are you?"

"Perhaps I am," he told her running his fingers through his messy hair.

"A band is only as good as their drummer," Abbey said to him, "you're a damn fine one." He smiled as if flattered and Tracy placed a new beer in front of him, satisfied.

"You say that like you're some kind of expert," he said with a laugh taking a swig of his beer.

"I kind of pride myself on being a bit of a Green Day expert," she admitted with a blush. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. He was quiet a moment, as if thinking.

"When is my birthday?" He asked her quizzically.

"December 9th," she answered with confidence.

"What year was insomniac released?"

"1997."

"Mike's last name?"

"Pritchard."

"Where are you from?" He asked suddenly.

Abbey sighed, "The Midwest."

"What's wrong with that?" He asked her curiously.

She grinned, "It's no California."

"That's true," he admitted, "where are you staying?" She blanched, embarrassed. She couldn't tell him this or the conversation would quickly be over, so she decided to change the subject.

"What brings you to a place like this?" Abbey asked him quickly.

"Well being a Green Day expert," he told her with a laugh, "I'm sure you heard about Billie's struggles with sobriety."

She just nodded with understanding.

"Don't think I didn't notice," he told her with a smirk. She cringed.

"Notice what?" She asked in an attempt to be sly.

"Where are you staying?" He asked, perceptively.

"W-well, for a while," she muttered, "I stayed at a motel on the other side of town."

"And now?" He asked, his fingers drumming anxiously against the bar. "O-OceanBeach,' She

sputtered, her cheeks flushing. His eyes widened, and he looked her over.

"Why didn't you go home?" He questioned seriously.

"That's like accepting defeat," she admitted downing the rest of the red drink, "I didn't just come here for my health."

"Why did you come here?" he all but demanded. Once again, she found herself frozen in embarrassment. Her dreams were cliché and she felt certain he would laugh.

"I-I want to s-sing," she grumbled, looking to Tracy at the other end of the bar with pleading eyes. Tré smiled.

"Are you any good?" He asked nodding Tracy over.

"I wouldn't know," Abbey told him honestly. She lacked confidence in herself, in her naivety.

Tracy padded over to Tré.

"I'll have another beer and whatever that is," he told her nodding to Abbey's empty cocktail glass. Tracy smiled and went to work. After a moment, she placed a bottle before Tré and a red cocktail before Abbey and then moved back to the other end of the bar where she began reading a newspaper. Abbey gratefully took a large gulp, her head beginning to get fuzzy.

"Well, obviously, I can't let you sleep on the beach," he said calmly. Abbey nearly choked on the fruity stuff.

"What?" She coughed, sitting her drink back upon the bar.

"I'm taking you home," he told her taking a long drink of his Budweiser.

"No way," she spouted, "I'm not going back to Indiana!" Tré laughed and peered into her eyes.

"I meant my home," he said with a smirk. Her eyes widened, and her chest tightened up with apprehension. She couldn't fathom what was happening.

"Why would you help me?" She gasped, "You don't even know me." A severe look crossed over his face.

"If you were a Green Day expert," he said briskly, smiling grimly, "you would know that at one time I had to survive on the kindness of strangers." His tone made her feel ashamed yet did nothing to alleviate her anxiety or suspicion. She threw back the contents of her glass.

"Look," she began bitterly, "I'm not that kind of girl." Tré just laughed. Her cheeks reddened. Was it so hard to believe that she wasn't some common street urchin?

"Abbey," he said plainly, before gulping down the rest of his beer, "it's not like that."

Abbey breathed a sigh of relief and flushed with embarrassment of her stupidity.

"Let's get out of here," Tré told her with a grin, pulling a fifty from his pocket and placing it on the bar. Abbey pulled her wallet from her pocket and placed a twenty beside it.

Tracy appeared with a smile and placed the money in her apron, "ya'll have a good night, now." Tré nodded politely and gestured to the door.

As they stepped outside, Abbey was surprised to find it had grown colder in the short time she'd been inside, the alcohol in her system chilling instead of warming her. Tré produced a ring of keys from his pocket, before pressing a button causing a chirp from a cherry red Mercury Comet across the street.

"Ah," Tré sighed with contentment, "Gypsy." He began to cross the darkened street only to stumble midway.

"T-Tré," Abbey murmured catching his arm, "perhaps you shouldn't drive just yet." He looked confused for a moment before nodding.

"You're probably right," he told her with a grin.

"Maybe we should walk for a bit," she suggested towing him out of the road and down the sidewalk.

"So," he asked conversationally, "where to?"

"Well," she told him as they began down the same four blocks she circled less than an hour before, "I've got to make a stop somewhere, but first we should probably get some coffee in you." He nodded.

She knew there was a 24-hour coffee shop down the street and pulled him by the elbow toward it. The dim sign outside the shop read 'Brewed Awakening,' she shoved through the door and directed Tré to a booth in the corner of the sparsely furnished store. He smiled gratefully up at her as she assisted him in sliding in.

"What kind do you drink?" she asked him softly.

"Vanilla cappuccino," he told her with a lazy grin, "I'm surprised you didn't know that." She walked to the counter where a tired looking teenager stood his eyes red and drooping.

"Is that Tré Cool?" He muttered quietly. She nodded.

"Can I have two French Vanilla cappuccinos, please?" She asked trying to hide the irritation she felt. He rang it up and she handed him a twenty, and he returned with two styrofoam cups.

She returned to Tré who was leaning against the table, humming. She placed the cup before him, and he quickly sat up.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he mumbled attempting to sip the hot coffee.

"What is there to apologize for?" She asked with confusion.

"When I said 'it's not like that," he began, "I didn't mean you weren't attractive." Abbey flushed bright red and chuckled at his admission.

"I wasn't offended," she told him, earnestly.

"It's just," he told her, his fingers drumming habitually on the table, "I like my women like I like my scotch."

Abbey grinned, "13 years old and stored in the basement?"

Tré burst into laughter, "I was going to say aged and smooth but that works, too." For the next few minutes, they sat in comfortable silence as Tré allowed the coffee to soak into him. After a while, he cleared his throat.

"So," he asked more soberly than before, "where do you need to go after this?"

Abbey sighed, "I hid my book bag, and it has everything I own inside." He nodded before taking a gulp from his now cooled coffee.

"You ready to go then?" He asked unsmiling, "I think I'm okay to drive, now." She looked him over a moment to assess whether or not he was correct before nodding quickly.

They head out of the shop and back towards Gypsy who glittered in the dim street light. Once again, he pulled out his keyless entry remote and Gypsy chirped as if in greeting, and Tré held the door open for her. She slid inside and sat in awe a moment of the decadent interior, as he closed the door behind her. She buckled her seatbelt before running her fingers over the white leather she sat upon. He slipped into the driver's seat and turned to her appraisingly.

"She's beautiful," Abbey murmured with a smile.

He grinned and asked, "Where to?"

"Ocean Beach," she reminded him with embarrassment. He nodded and started Gypsy with a purr. His driving terrified her a bit, and she wondered whether she had been foolish to let him drive as they darted down the darkened streets.

As the beach came into view, a sense of dread grew within her. Eventually, they came near a public bathroom.

"Here," she told him briskly. He braked stiffly and she lurched forward, thankful for the seatbelt.

"You hid your stuff in a bathroom?" He asked his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight above the beach. She nodded, embarrassed and leapt from the car.

She rushed forward and pushed her way into the Lady's room. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered creating a disturbing atmosphere. She nervously padded forward to the handicap stall and locked the door behind her. She shivered with déjà vu, and she climbed to stand up on the toilet. She stared up at the stained ceiling, a brown heart cake upon it, looking for signs of tampering only to find none. She shoved the dirty tile up and to the side and began feeling around inside. She expected her belongings to be waiting just on the inside, and fear and sadness soaked into as she felt nothing but dirty and insolation. She turned quickly and felt around the other side to no avail.

'Possibly,' she thought frantically. 'I was mistaken, maybe this the wrong stall.' Though as she replaced the tile, she knew she was wrong. There was no mistaking that dirty heart shape, and her chest tightened and let herself out of the stall and left the smelly place.

As she got back inside Gypsy, she felt like a fist was squeezing her heart. Tré looked her over expectantly, and as she met his light-blue eyes, she began to cry. Tré looked shocked and uncertain.

"W-what's wrong?" He asked his voice squeaking with anxiety. She shook her head.

"Someone," she began, fighting back sobs, "stole my stuff."

"It's not so bad," he told her, unsure, "you could get new stuff." Fresh tears burned her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

"That was everything I owned," she cried, her face in her hands, "my clothes, my sketch book, my family photos." Tré shook his head in remorse.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his voice full of pain. She felt ashamed of herself and quickly swiped away the tears. She could no more burden him than she already was and shook her head profusely.

"It's okay," she murmured, "we can go now." He nodded and shifted Gypsy into Drive. As they drove through the unfamiliar cityscape, the first colors of sunset streaked across the sky in vibrant reds and oranges. She allowed Gypsy quiet purr to lull her into comfort as she leaned against the cool window and drifted off.

Too soon, she felt someone shaking her awake. She batted the hands away.

"The beach is public property," she grumbled without opening her eyes, "I'm not hurting anything."

"Abbey," a familiar voice mumbled, "we're here." Her eyes begrudgingly opened to find Tré smiling over at her with patience. She sat up quickly, hoping she hadn't drooled on Gypsy's interior. She looked to through the windshield to find an extremely large, white, two-story ranch-style house, the neatly trimmed grass before it glittering as the morning dew absorbed the California sunrise.

"This is my humble abode," Tré said with a quiet laugh, before opening the door to step out. Abbey just stared on in awe before Tré gestured her toward the house. She stumbled from Gypsy's warm interior into the brisk morning. As they began up the sidewalk, Tré whistled an unfamiliar tune and twirled his ring of keys. As they approached the oak door, he keyed open several locks before pushing the door open to reveal a beautiful living room decked out with black Italian leather furniture and fluffy white carpeting. An extremely large flat-screen TV hung darkened upon the milky wall. A lacquered, black oak table lay before it, a gloss red staircase began in the corner. She gasped at its beauty and turned to face Tré her eyes wide with wonder. He just smiled and took off his jacket and hung it upon the wall, his muscular biceps bare underneath. She tensed up as his hands touched her shoulders before he began to slide her coat off. She quickly pulled her arms from it and handed it to him.

He gestured toward a hallway near the stairs and began toward it. She meekly followed him as he turned into a luxurious kitchen, all black granite and silver.

He turned to the refrigerator and pulled bottled water from inside before asking, "You want anything?"

"W-water's fine," she mumbled meekly. He tossed her a bottle and directed her back into the dark living room.

She sat upon the comfy leather couch, and Tré turned toward the stairs.

"I'll be right back," he told her as he went. She sat quietly for a minute before he paced quickly back down, a bundle of fabric in his arms. As he reached the couch, he threw part of the bundle beside her.

The remainder he handed to her with a sleepy smile, "They'll probably be huge on you, but you can sleep in them." She thanked him quietly.

"The bathroom's down the hall to the left," he whispered to her awkwardly, "I'm going to head to bed."

"Good night," she mumbled as he turned and headed back up the stairs.

She sat in silence a moment before kicking off her shoes and wandering through the dark and into the bathroom, which was, of course, glamorous and large. She shut the door quietly and stripped quickly down to her underwear, blushing despite her solitude. She looked at the clothes he had given her; a faded black T-shirt and a large pair of gray sweat pants. She slid into the pants and tied the drawstring as tight as it would go before pulling the shirt over her head. She breathed in the scent tentatively, a musky, sweet smell wafting into her nostrils. She sighed as she neatly folded her jeans and T-shirt and left to the living room.

She spread the blanket he gave her over herself as she lay down on the cool leather. As she closed her eyes, she thanked the heavens for Tré and his kindness but knew she could not take advantage of him. She curled up beneath the fluffy blanket and tried to plan her next step, to no avail. All she knew was she planned to get out of his hair as soon as she woke. She sighed as she drifted off, she didn't miss sleeping on the beach. Within moments, she was dreaming of blue eyes.


	3. Worry Rock

What little rest she got that night was fitful. She tossed and turned all night upon the plush couch, dreaming of wandering around her old home only to find it barren and empty. All the while, a thunderstorm brewed outside, thunder claps seeping into what was quickly becoming a repetitive nightmare. Finally, as the dream reached its peak, she came to stand before her old bedroom door, as a sense of dread tugged on her sub-conscious.

With hesitation within her, she slowly turned the knob to find a beautiful porcelain doll. She breathed a sigh of relief and began toward it. She stopped in her tracks as the doll began to contort, its glassy lips pulling into a sharp smile, before it began to cackle a shrieking laugh.

She bursted awake just then, her ears ringing from the shrill laughter. She realized this laughter was not a figment of her imagination as she turned. Upon the table before her sat a young boy, shaking with laughter. Her eyes narrowed, and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. The olive skinned boy's mouth snapped shut at her reaction. He held his hands up in an apologetic gesture.

She shook her head trying to remember exactly where she was. She glared at the dark-haired boy a moment before she realized who he was.

"Frankito," she mumbled, "I presume."

"Yes, ma'am," he told her.

"Frankito," Tré called from what Abbey assumed was the kitchen, "leave her alone."

"Sorry," Frankito called back, running his fingers through his black hair.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he apologized quietly, "it's just that you talk in your sleep." Abbey's cheeks flushed, and she ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

"What in God's name did I say?" She asked frantically.

"Nothing much," Frankito told her with a chuckle, "mostly mumbles." Abbey sighed in relief before Frankito held up his hand to halt her.

"There was something though," he admitted with a grin, "I believe it was, 'Help me, Tré,'" Abbey's hands flew to her face.

"Oh my God," she groaned in exasperation. Frankito stood and patted her bushy hair.

"It's cool," he told her, "your secret is safe with me." For some reason, this reassurance brought tears brimming in her eyes.

"Thanks, kid," she muttered.

"Breakfast," Tré called from down the hall. Abbey uncovered her face as Frankito started toward the kitchen. He turned to her as she remained on the couch.

"Come on," he motioned her forward. She begrudgingly followed him only to be met with the delicious smell of bacon. It suddenly occurred to her; she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything other than cheap junk food.

"Abbey," Tré said warmly as she stepped into the spacious kitchen, "I see you've met Frankito." She nodded, standing awkwardly in the threshold. Frankito began piling mounds of eggs and bacon onto his plate, the smell wafting in Abbey's direction causing her stomach to growl in response. She blushed in embarrassment, before Tré motioned her to the island counter. She slowly padded over and pulled herself into a tall stool. Tré smiled and pulled a plate from a cabinet and began placing food on it.

"I hope you're not a vegetarian," he said with a laugh, as he placed it before her, "we eat a lot of meat in this house."

Abbey smiled shyly back at him and stared down at the steaming hot food. She hesitated a moment as her mouth watered. Frankito laughed and shoved a fork into her palm ending her indecision. She shoved a small bite of eggs in her mouth and to her delight, they were perfect and fluffy. She ate with haste and it took every measure of self-restraint she had not to lick the plate when she was done.

As she looked up, Frankito stared incredulously and Tré smiled with approval.

She blushed and muttered, "I never expected you to be this good of a cook." Tré laughed heartily.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Frankito told her with a grin.

A while later, Abbey excused herself from the counter and drifted back to the living room where she found her clothes missing.

"They're in the dryer," Tré said startling her out of her confusion, "everything was caked with sand." Just then, he threw her a towel.

"Tré," she began, "I was just going to-"

"Nope," he said cutting her off.

He directed her to the bathroom and stood awkwardly at the door.

"Well," she said scratching the back of her neck, "I guess I'm gonna take a shower." Tré shifted oddly and cleared his throat before nodding and walking away. Once inside she quickly removed the borrowed clothes and turned on the complex looking shower. While waiting for the shower to warm up, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror, and as she did a gasp ripped through her chest.

She hadn't realized just how much weight she had lost, but now her bones stuck out at strange angles, her cheekbones even sharper than before in her sallow looking face. Her eyes were lined with deep circles and her hair while frizzy and curly lie, mostly limp against her skull. Her scrawny arms reflexively flew up to cover her body and shield her mind, but as she slid under the hot water, she knew it was too late as sobs of despair shook her frail body.

She dare not touch the assortment of soaps lined in the door but to her relief and confusion, she found that some feminine looking shampoo and conditioner lying on the floor of the shower, and she squeezed a sparse amount into her palm and vigorously scrubbed the sand from her hair, raking her nails across her scalp. This alone took 20 minutes before finally her red, burning scalp was sand-free.

Meanwhile, Tré and Frankito sat in the down the hall in the living room, Tré in the leather recliner, Frankito on the couch that Abbey slept on. Her blankets folded neatly in the corner. Frankito stared blankly down at his algebra homework, bouncing his pencil rhythmically back and forth on his binder, while Tré stared down at his cell phone, reflexively tapping his foot along with the beat.

Just then Frankito mumbled in observation, "she's been in there a long time."

Without looking up Tré replied, "she covered in sand. She's been staying on the beach." Frankito's eyes widened, yet Tré didn't look up.

"Dad," Frankito all but shouted, "how do you know she's not some kind of dope fiend, or worse yet a serial killer?!" Tré shook his head and finally turned to look at his son, a weak smile playing on his lips.

"Frankito," Tré said with confidence, placing a hand on his shoulder, "it's all about the eyes."

Frankito shook his head in incredulity before spouting, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Tré's eyes tightened, but his smiled didn't falter.

"You'll get it when you're older," he said simply.

Back in the bathroom, Abbey stood wrapped in the towel raking her pruned fingers through her hair before the mirror, doing her best not to look anywhere below the neck. The face alone startled her. She hardly recognized this bony, scraggly woman staring back at her with fear in her eyes. It was only going to get worse; she would starve to the point of pain and then death, on the beach and now with everything she owned gone; she had no way to survive.

For a brief moment, she considered that she should go home and just as quickly she pushed the thought away with a scowl. She would have died before she went back. Someone knocked, and she cracked the door open a peek and saw her clothes folded on the floor outside it. She scooped them up quickly and closed the door, before pulling her clothes on as fast as she could, her skin still slightly damp.

She finally dared to give an appraising glance at herself in the mirror and sighed with relief. Clothed her visage was much less severe, and she looked more model starved than sickly, thanks to her now, nearly constant light tan. She cringed remembering the unknown fate of her sunscreen. Finally, she pushed the door open with a huff and joined Tré and Frankito in the living room.

"Thanks," she squeaked sitting down on the couch to pull her Chuck Taylor's on.

Tré smiled and waved her words away, "no problem."

She shrugged into her tattered leather jacket and hopped to her feet and headed toward the door. Tré and Frankito stared after her as she gripped the knob.

"Where are you going?" Tré asked with interest and confusion.

She blushed at his attention, "um, I was just going to get out of your hair." Tré scoffed at her rhetoric and pushed himself from the chair.

"And sleep on the beach tonight?" He asked, his blue eyes bright with disapproval, "not a chance!" Abbey flinched back and stared at him, her eyes wide like a wild animal.

"But-," she began her hand still clutching the door knob as if for dear life.

"Shh," he said to her, swiping her hand from the knob, "just let me help you." She shook her head in refusal; she would not burden him, whose kindness she couldn't understand and every nerve in her body told her to get out before she overstayed her welcome. She'd learned that from her first weeks on the street, after having waked upon a park bench with two police officers staring down at her.

Tré grabbed her shoulders to stop her head-shaking and stared into her eyes.

"I know you don't belong on the streets," he told her severely, "I want to help you put your life together."

"But," she cried, "why?" Tré blanched. His blue eyes dropped to the carpet.

He shrugged, "it's the right thing to do."

She blinked back tears and sighed.

"Tré," she reassured him, "any moral obligation you felt was long since fulfilled, seriously."

"No," he told her sharply, "it's not about that."

"Then what," she asked him, turning again toward the door, "What is it about?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, "but don't leave."

Finally, her hand dropped from the door, and she sighed.

Meanwhile, Frankito began his homework not trying to comprehend what was happening. Tré grabbed Abbey's scrawny elbow and towed her into the kitchen.

"What did you lose?" He asked sitting beside her at the island. At this, his eyes prickled, and she squeezed them shut.

"Everything," she groaned, mournfully, "birth certificate, social security card, my resume."

Tré seemed surprised by the latter.

"Your resume?" He asked in confusion.

"From back home," she muttered, "I'm an art technology student. Or I was." Tré sat quietly in thought for a minute, and Abbey thought he had forgotten her.

Suddenly, he asked, "you could just call and order your papers, right?"

"I suppose-, "she started to say.

He interrupted her, "and you could retype your resume?" She nodded quickly and wondered what his point was.

"I'll be back," he shouted and burst from the room. She sat awkwardly, tapping the toe of her Converse against the metal of the chair. A moment later he returned with a cordless phone and a laptop computer.

"You know how to use this, right?" He asked gesturing to the laptop, which now sat before her. She stared down at the impressive piece of machinery with admiration.

"Of course-"she began but yet again he cut her off.

"Good," he said with excitement, "call and get your papers and type out your resume, I've got to make some phone calls."

With that he left the room, his cell phone already pressed to his ear. She stared after him a moment before opening the laptop and using a search engine to find the number for the courthouse in her hometown. After 45 minutes of arguing she finally convinced the public official to send her documents to her P.O. Box, which she was sure was practically empty. She then opened a word processor and typed out her resume from scratch. At some point, melodic music began to flow from downstairs, and she wondered if it was Frankito. Finally, when her wrists were sore from misuse, she saved the page and closed the laptop with a sigh.

Frankito peeked his head in then, Stratocaster dangling from a strap across his shoulders.

"What's up?" He asked her cautiously. She shrugged and smiled at him.

"Wondering if my presence has made your father go insane," she replied with a surprisingly easy laugh.

"Nah," Frankito responded, reciprocating her smile, "he crossed that bridge long ago." She chuckled and slid down from the stool.

"Nice Strat," she observed, slipping her hands in her pockets.

"You play?" Frankito asked, his fingers strumming soundlessly.

"Guitar, no," she told him, "but I do play keyboard." He smiled and told her to follow him. She turned and grabbed the laptop.

"Your dad will probably want this back."

They trudged up the spiral staircase and Frankito took the laptop and walked down the hall to what she assumed was Tré's room. He returned a moment later, empty-handed and gestured toward a door in front of her. He stepped inside, a smile on his lips. She followed him in and gasped.

Before her, was a room jam-packed with every instrument known to man. The walls lined with what looked to her like foamy egg cartons. Every musical instrument in sight was in incredible condition and made by the highest standard of manufacturers. Frankito practically basked in her reaction before pointing toward a beautiful and complex keyboard before sitting in a metal chair and plugging the Stratocaster into a giant amplifier.

She sat upon the piano bench and flipped on the power switch. Her fingers drifted momentarily over the keys, before she began to feel out a tune and a shrill, startlingly breathtaking melody flowed from the speakers. After a moment, Frankito joined her, his pithy guitar chords meshing seamlessly with her notes. They continued in the fashion for what felt to Abbey, like hours, drifting from nameless song to nameless song.

Tré burst in suddenly, his blue-eyes glittering with excitement. Abbey's fingers hit a sour note and all three of them cringed until there was silence.

"I think," Tré began his tight-lipped smile beaming, "I've found you a job." Abbey flicked the power switch without thinking and stood as Tré began downstairs.

She followed quickly after him, her light footsteps clicking on the wood, "what are you talking about?"

At the bottom, he turned suddenly to face her.

"I was looking at your resume," he told her, "when it hit me." She nodded expectantly.

"You can do desk jobs, right?" He asked with sudden uncertainty, "like secretarial work?"

"Yes," she told him, a flutter of excitement burrowing inside her. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You know how to do an interview?" He asked her, his smile even brighter than before. She simply nodded profusely.

"Thank God," he said leaning against the wall, "Adrienne will be here any minute." Abbey's jaw dropped, and her cheeks flushed. Just then, there was a knock at the door.


	4. Road to Acceptance

Abbey's breath caught at her throat. She jumped as someone placed and hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see that it was merely Frankito attempting to reassure her. She released her breath before turning frantically to Tré.

"I'm not ready for this," She gasped, gesturing to her attire.

"You'll be fine," Tré told her with a tentative smile. He shoved a comb in her hand and pushed her toward the bathroom.

She stepped inside and began yanking the comb through her frizzy hair, to no avail. She stared at her thin face and began to hyperventilate. There was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," She said shrilly. Frankito stepped in, a cautious smile upon his lips.

"Chill, Abbey," He told her, "Adrienne is cool."

"That's the problem," she mumbled, once again preoccupied by the curly yet lank mop of hair of her head.

"Just come out when you're ready," Frankito told her quietly and stepped through, closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Adrienne sat agitatedly before Tré, all but glaring at his goofy smile.

"Tré," she said her voice giving away nothing of her annoyance, "what are you dragging me into?" At this, he looked down, staring at his red Chuck Taylor's.

"She's a decent kid," He said softly, "she's just lost."

"Well, maybe," Adrienne said, her resolve breaking, "she should go home."

"I can't send her away," He said quickly, his eyes sharp with unusual seriousness. Adrienne blinked warily.

"Tré," She told him, "you don't even know her!"

"I see a part of myself in her," He replied, "she's scared out of her mind."

"When have you ever been scared of anything, Tré?"

"Look," He told her sharply, now, "I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to help me, help her."

"Tré," She replied in all seriousness, "you're not just risking your security with this. You're risking your friends and family by inviting a total outsider into our lives."

"She's not a risk."

"You don't know that!"

"Adrienne," He pleaded quietly, "trust me, for once." Adrienne's face softened slightly and she just nodded.

Abbey walked in. Her hair was slicked down with water, her black T-shirt baggy on her bony shoulders, her eyes wide with fear and wonder. Tré stood suddenly and stepped out of Abbey's way. Abbey padded slowly over to the recliner and sat down, staring at her hands.

"Can I get you anything?" Tré asked Adrienne, attempting to be on his best behavior.

"How about you make some tea, Tré," Adrienne told him without looking away from Abbey. He rolled his eyes but left the room.

"So," Adrienne began, "what brings you here?" Abbey looked for the first time into Adrienne's dark-brown eyes. Her olive-skinned face was unsmiling.

"I-I," Abbey stuttered, "I came to start my career."

"And what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd been working on getting my degree in graphic design."

"What happened with that?"

"I-I haven't been to class since last year."

"Why not?"

"I-I left home…"

"Why?"

"I can't talk about it." Abbey found she was breathless. Adrienne held her hands up in surrender. She was quiet for a moment, staring off into space. Abbey stared down at her Converse, cursing Tré silently, but also cursing herself.

"I'm sorry," Adrienne whispered suddenly, smoothing her dreadlocks against her dark skin.

"Don't be," Abbey mumbled.

"No," Adrienne to her, looking into her eyes," I am. It's just this is an odd situation."

"I understand," Abbey grumbled, "I'm an outsider; you're afraid that I'm an imposter."

"Are you?" Abbey only blinked at her in incredulity.

"Let me tell you," Abbey snarled, "I decided to starve on the beach, precisely to get a chance to ruin your life." Adrienne shook her head.

Tré came in then and placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of Adrienne. He came to stand behind Abbey, an expectant look on his face.

"So," Adrienne began her tone falsely jovial, "do you have a resume?"

Abbey nodded slowly.

"Frankito," Tré shouted, then, "did you print that out?" Frankito ran downstairs, nearly tripping over his gangly legs. He stopped awkwardly at the bottom.

"I meant to do that," he said with a chuckle as he paced toward Adrienne, a sheet of paper in hand. He shoved it in her hand and rushed over to stand beside Tré. Adrienne stared down at Abbey's resume, her round face giving nothing away.

"How are you at answering phones?" She asked quietly.

"I can do it," Abbey told her with surprise.

Adrienne looked her over, quietly before sighing. She looked to Tré who smiled, his blue eyes glittering with excitement.

"Tré," She said with a tentative smile, "you'd better be right." He simply nodded. She looked Abbey, who was fighting the urge to smile, in the face.

"It's not the most exciting work," Adrienne told her, "but if you want it, you've got the job." Abbey couldn't help but smile, now. She hopped to her feet startling the others. She thrust her hand out toward Adrienne, and she slowly took it and shook it before standing herself.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Abbey gasped. Adrienne genuinely laughed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Adrienne told her heading towards the door. Abbey nodded quickly.

"Adeline Records," Adrienne informed her as she started out the door, "8 a.m."

"I'll be there," Abbey called after her, smile plastered on your face. She turned to Tré then, tears prickling her eyes.

"Congratulations," he said softly.

"Thank you," she said to him, tears sliding down her cheeks, "so much."

At the sight of her tears, Tré blanched. Frankito laughed at his reaction and sauntered out of the room, leaving his father to deal with Abbey's emotions.

"D-don't cry," he muttered awkwardly. She glowed crimson and swiped the tears away.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "it's just; this is the best thing that's happened to me… Maybe ever." He nodded and stood quietly, while she calmed herself down.

"I-I need to go to the store," she said picking her wallet up from the table.

"What do you need?" He asked in confusion.

"I hardly think it's appropriate to go to my first day of work in red jeans and a worn old T-shirt," she told him with a chuckle, her eyes still shining with tears. He nodded, grabbing his keys from his jacket on the wall.

"I'll give you a ride," He insisted with a smile.

"Tré," She said softly, "you've done enough. I'll walk." He laughed at her.

"Yeah right," He chuckled, "you're a scrawny, white girl wearing red jeans, and I'm not letting you walk around Oakland. Besides, I can always use an excuse to get Gypsy on the road."

Abbey blushed and nodded.

"Frankito," He shouted, "I'm giving Abbey a ride to the store!"

"Okay!" Frankito shouted back, from down the hall. Abbey laughed then as they headed out the door.

"What?" Tré asked with a goofy smirk.

"You two are very alike," She told him as Gypsy chirped. Tré shrugged and went to open the door for her. She blushed and slid inside Gypsy's inviting leather interior.

In the end, she wound up spend her last $35 dollars on dark jeans, a pack of T-shirts, pajamas and a gift for Tré. That night as she stood over the sink besides Tré cleaning the dishes leftover from a delicious dinner, she found herself smiling more than she had in months, as they bantered casually.

"You know," He told her, "I was thinking while you were in the store."

"Uh oh," She joked, "did you hurt yourself?" He laughed and elbowed her playfully.

"Oh yeah," He told her with a chuckle, "my hair almost caught on fire."

"Ooh, no good," she laughed, drying a plate with an old rag, "but anyway?"

"Well," He began, his eyes sparkling with humor, "Claudia moved out a few years ago, and her room has been basically untouched since then." Her hands froze up on the now dry plate.

"And," He continued, his eyes on the cup he was rinsing, "There's no reason for you to sleep on the couch, when there's a perfectly good bed upstairs."

"No," She told him, "I couldn't put you out any more than I already have."

"You won't be," He assured her, "it's just there."

"I can't," She refused him, "Tré, you've already done too much."

"I'm not doing anything," He said, handing her a dripping cup, "it's just an offer. Sleep on the couch, if you want." She nodded but considered it internally, as she dried it off. 'It would be nice to sleep in a bed, again,' she thought with a grin.

"Besides," Tré told her, "you talk in your sleep." She blushed, a deep red at the memory of Frankito's wake up call, and he laughed.

"You do that, a lot," He said smiling over at her.

"What?" She asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Blush," He informed her, "you're red in the face, like 80% of the time."

Just like that, her skin was rouge.

"There you go again," He chuckled as he rinsed the last dirty dish.

"Stop pointing it out," She snarked, taking it from his hands, "or I'll be beet red, forever." He held his hands up in surrender and headed towards the door.

"I'll go ahead and put blankets upstairs," he said with a grin, "in case you change your mind." She thanked him and placed the bowl in the dish strainer.

She then found herself wandering around, glowing with joy and excitement. Frankito had a while before gone up to bed, due to it being a school night. She then plopped down on the couch and sighed with satisfaction. She stretched out and as if her body were reminding her of Tré's offer, she couldn't get comfortable, which was odd since only two nights before she had found comfort on the sandy beach. So, she hesitantly began upstairs, where Tré's bedroom door was propped open with a crate of records. He sat up against the headboard of his fluffy bed; an ear bud shoved in his right ear, staring into nothing.

She knocked quietly and he jumped, as though startled before smiling over sleepily at her. He waved her in, pulling the headphone from his ear. She slowly walked in, taking in, as non-intrusively as possible, her surroundings. His room was extremely cluttered, which was to be expected. His hamper was overstuffed, clothes lying all around it. All along the walls lay crates and crates full of records, most by artists she'd never heard of. On his dresser were tons of framed photos of him, Frankito and a young girl she recognized as Ramona, his daughter. His thick black curtains closed over what looked to be like a very large window.

Tré patted the bed, for her to sit down, and she did very hesitantly. An iPod Nano lay beside him, the buttons worn from use. She grabbed it quickly.

"What are you listening to?" She asked pressing the button to unlock it. The display read 'Ave Maria – Andrea Bocelli.' She chuckled.

"What?" He asked taking it from her hands and looking down at the display as though he was unsure.

"Nothing," she told him with a chuckle, "I just didn't take you for the Opera type."

"Well, you learn something new every day," He told her with a grin.

She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a tiny package.

"Here," Abbey said, thrusting it into his hands. He looked up at her in confusion before opening it. Inside was a small, key chain engraved with the name Gypsy. He smiled up at her.

"This is why you took so long?" He asked with a laugh. She shrugged.

"It's not much," She told him, "but I had to do something."

"It's great," He said, plucking it from the box and adding it to the key ring on his bedside table. She smiled and began to stand.

"Have you changed your mind?" He asked her.

She looked at him oddly, her mind searching for obvious answers to why he was so inclined and found none.

"Why do you ask?"

He grew quiet as though pondering in the same manner she had been.

"Can I ask you something?" He said after a while, attempting to distract her.

"I-I," She stammered before pausing briefly, "-sure."

"How do you feel about me?" He breathed, looking down at the keys in his hand.

Abbey laughed and turned redder than Tré had seen so far.

"I-I am SO not going there," she giggled borderline hysterically. Tré stared blankly up at her. She became serious, suddenly.

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him. Her cheeks were still pink, and she clasped her suddenly clammy hands together.

"Neither did you," He told her, his grin stiff and his eyebrow rose.

She smiled shyly at his expression and softly said, "Yes, I've changed my mind. Where is it?"

He stood then and began down the hallway. As they began, she thought for some reason he was taking her to the practice room but he stopped next to Frankito's door. He shoved the door open, flipped the light on and stepped inside. She followed him, and her face lit up. It was a very plain room, with almost no personality whatsoever. The very ordinary looking bed covered with simple white sheets, gray blankets and fluffy black pillows. An old-school alarm clock sat on the plastic bedside table. She loved it. She turned to him, her eyes radiant with adoration.

"You have no idea how grateful and indebted you, I am," She told him covering her face with her hands. He hesitated for a second and placed his hand on her shoulder. She froze, not removing her hands from her face, and he quickly removed his.

"It's nothing," he muttered staring oddly down at his feet, pointing to the dresser, "the dresser is empty." She stepped forward and touched his arm lightly with just the tips of her fingers.

"Thank you," she told him with the most genuine appreciativeness he ever saw. She moved away toward the hall.

"Where are you going?" He asked following after her as she started downstairs.

"I have to change," She told him as she got to the bottom.

He stopped in his tracks and said simply, "oh."

"Good night, Tré," Abbey said smiling up at him, "seriously, thanks a lot." He smiled too, looking suddenly very tired.

"'Night," Tré said turning back and heading to his room.

Abbey left to the living room to get her things and felt paranoid in the tenebrous dark. She grabbed her small bag of things and scurried down the hall to the bathroom where she flipped on the light and closed the door with a sigh. She changed quickly into her plaid pajamas and ran on her tip toes back upstairs to the spare room. She laid her bags down next to the dresser for the morning and sat on the bed. It was a bit saggy, but she couldn't bring herself to mind as she set the alarm for 6:30 a.m.

She slid beneath the covers and curled tightly against the pillow and sighed in contentment. She heard Tré snoring in the next room and smiled sleepily. She tried not to wonder about Tré's strange and embarrassing question and focus on her first day of work in months at Adeline Records. She shivered at the thought and realized if she continued in this fashion she'd never get to sleep, so instead she focused on Tré's snoring. She found comfort in remembering his smile and soon drifted off to her peaceful sleep in years.


	5. Wow! That's Loud!

Abbey woke five minutes before her alarm went off thanks to Tré. Despite the sound proofing in the practice room, she could clearly hear the clang of cymbals from down the hall. She sat up with a groan and pulled the blanket over her head, in exasperation. She sat like that until the alarm began to toll. She dragged herself from the bed, closed the door and changed into her clothes in the dark. She hobbled from the room and found it odd that she wasn't nearly as pissed as she would have been at anyone else. She found herself comparing the beat he was playing with her musical memory. She realized that the choppy song he was drumming was 'Christie Road.' She shook her head and darted into the practice room.  
Tré stopped as Abbey busted in and smiled at her from behind the pristine drum set, evilly.  
"I don't think I can actually be mad," she murmured, pushing her hair from her eyes. His face went blank.  
"Why not?" He asked with confusion.  
"You forget who you're talking to," She told him with a tired smile.  
"Well, you're no fun," He said getting up from his stool, simply dropping his sticks on the floor. She smirked at him and left the room.  
"By the way," He called after her, "your shirt is on backwards."  
Her cheeks flamed and she scurried inside the spare bedroom to fix it. When she got downstairs, she found Tré at the kitchen table sipping a steaming cup of coffee. She sat across from him, leaned her head against the table. By now nervousness had hit her; she felt so much doubt in her abilities, that she was sure others would see it in her work.  
"What's wrong?" Tré asked stirring tons of sugar into his coffee. She looked wide-eyed up at him.  
"Nervous," she uttered, simply.  
He grabbed his keys from the pocket of his dark jeans and smiled.  
"Relax," He told her, calmly, "it'll be cool." He tinkled his keys and stood chugging the rest of his coffee, most likely scalding his tongue. Abbey watched with an amused expression as his face blanked out.  
"Hurts really badly, huh?" Abbey asked with a grin. He shook his head 'no' profusely but his watering blue eyes gave him away. She simply smiled and headed for the door. As they stepped into the cool morning, Abbey shivered with odd exhilaration. In the long paved driveway sat Gypsy glimmering in the daybreak sun. Tré clicked his keyless lock and Gypsy trilled briefly.  
Tré ambled past Abbey and touched Gypsy's hood, gently.  
"Good morning, beautiful," He cooed, playfully. Abbey blushed at his gooey tone and let herself inside. He smirked at her through the windshield, running his fingers through his messy auburn hair. She flushed and pulled her seatbelt on quickly. He got in and drove off wordlessly, grinning absently.  
Twenty minutes later they pulled up out front of a nondescript brick building.  
"Here we are," Tré told her with a smile, tapping on the stirring wheel to a nonexistent rhythm. She raised her eyebrows.  
"Where is here?" She asked with a wary chuckle, "a glue factory?" He shook his head slowly, before pulling his aviators from the sun visor and putting them on. Her cheeks burned red apropos of nothing.  
"You'll see," He told her with a smirk. She shrugged and nodded, looking unblinking back at him. It was his turn to raise his eyebrow.  
"Now," He told her in a goofy bumpkin accent, "get outta here, ya rascal!" She giggled and pushed Gypsy's door open.  
She flicked him a salute and him and got out.  
"Thanks for the ride," She called over her shoulder. He was already roaring down the street, making a spectacle of himself by the time she reached the door.  
She pushed her way inside and stood in the door way shocked. As ugly and blank as the outside was, the interior was twice as beautiful. The brick walls were painted bright white and covered with framed photos of their signed bands, including Emily's Army. The carpet was jet black and absolutely spotless; the modern furniture was all bright red leather and dark mahogany. Adrienne stepped into the gorgeous lobby. Abbey's jaw dropped and she realized in her fear that she had failed to comprehend Adrienne's beauty.  
Her dark dreadlocks were pulled black in a loose pony tail and she had she had a strangely warm smile on her rounded face. Abbey smiled back and stepped forward to greet her.  
"You're early," Adrienne remarked.  
"Of course," Abbey told her with a shrug, "I said I would be here." Adrienne nodded warily and directed her from the bustling lobby.  
As they continued down the hall, Adrienne was quiet. Abbey followed her to dark oak desk. It was polished and sat just outside an office door marked with Adrienne's name. She turned to Abbey now.  
"My assistant quit last week," She told Abbey with a sigh. Abbey tilted her head in an inquisitive gesture.  
"That's why Tré thought of it last night," She informed her. Abbey thanked her lucky stars.  
"May I ask why they quit?" Abbey murmured shyly. Adrienne nodded and smiled.  
"She said the work load was too much," Adrienne said with a laugh.  
So for the next seven hours Abbey rushed around, attempting to fulfill a checklist given to her by Adrienne. She made tea. She balanced Adrienne's schedule. She watered the plants. She answered phones. She filed receipts for recording equipment. She put everything she had into those menial tasks; so by the time 5 o'clock rolled around, she was achy and fatigued. Adrienne seemed impressed with her though and that eased the burden. Finally, she said goodbye to Adrienne and the few other people that she'd met and shoved through the door warily.  
She looked around for Gypsy and found nothing. She stood on the sidewalk puzzled. The first streaks of sunset were beginning giving everything a surreal reddish shade. She stood waiting for 10 minutes, only slightly frustrated. She knew that Adrienne had spoken to him, a short time before and considered going back inside to ask her about it, when she realized that would appear helpless and therefore weak.  
She breathed a sigh and started down the street despite having no clue where she was. She made it about a block.  
"Hey you," someone shouted, "get in my van!" She turned and saw Tré sitting across the street in a checkered van that she recognized immediately recognized. The windows and back door painted with photos of his Weimerdoodle, named Dooder. She smiled and wondered idly where this strange dog was. She came to stand at the edge of the sidewalk.  
"There candy in there?" She asked with a smirk.  
"Come find out," He told her with a chuckle. She looked shyly down at her feet a moment, before smiling up at him and running forward. She moved to the passenger door and pulled it open and laughed. The inside of the van was painted bright yellow, with a big white steering wheel stick straight out of the dashboard. The seats and ceilings were lined with red velvet and fur. She pulled herself into the cushy seat and giggled.  
"What's funny?" Tré asked smiling his thing lips grin. She sighed in gratification and looked at his face in the dim lighting.  
"You," She told him smiling shyly. He shrugged and Abbey buckled her seat belt. Tré shifted the van into gear and Abbey looked over her shoulder into the back. The floor of the van was lined in cheetah print carpet. The bench seat and what appeared to be a large subwoofer were also covered in whitish fur and pillows. One of which was painted to look like Burt Reynolds.  
"Why Burt Reynolds?" She asked with curiosity.  
"Do you even have to ask?" Tré challenged. Abbey shrugged.  
"I suppose I don't," She announced with a smug grin. She rolled her window down as they rambled down street.  
"I have a surprise for you," Tré said then. Her eyebrow rose.  
"No more surprises," She beseeched him. He beamed then.  
"Trust me," He directed, "you're going to love it." She exhaled heavily and looked fixedly out the window helplessly.  
Eventually, they reached a little coffee house called The Cool Beans. Abbey looked around perplexed.  
"The surprise is a coffee shop?" She asked Tré with befuddlement.  
"We're just picking it up here," He said with an amused look. He pressed the peeping horn twice before folding his hands behind his head. Abbey gazed at the café in fascination.  
Finally, from the door stepped two men Abbey identified at once. She gasped and turned to Tré dewy-eyed. The taller of the two, a blonde who she perceived immediately as Mike Dirnt, knocked on the vans side door. Tré flipped a switch near the stirring wheel and the door began to creak open. Abbey's hands began to sweat and she froze in her place. The dark haired person, obviously Billie, shoved past Mike and climbed inside with a loud chuckle.  
Abbey held back a squeal as she comprehended that she was in the presence of all three member of Green Day. Mike stepped in and slammed the door behind him. Abbey found herself practically melting into the seat as she frantically glared at Tré. He turned in his seat and smirked.  
"So," He started, "this small person liquefying into the seat is Abbey." She squeaked at the sound of her name. Billie pushed past Tré and turned to look at Abbey, who was now curled into a tight little ball, peering innocuously back at him. He smiled and held out his small tattooed hand. She hesitated and reached out to take it. His calloused fingers closed over her hand and shook it firmly.  
"I've heard a lot about you," Billie informed her with a snicker. Abbey eyed Tré with chagrin. He let go of her and scooted back into the back where he leaned against the bench seat next to Mike, whispering. Tré rolled his eyes and shifted the van once again into gear.  
On the way to Tré's house the three spoke animatedly, leaving no room for Abbey to speak, which she was grateful. She wasn't sure she'd be able to speak anytime soon. They pulled in the driveway and Abbey heard barking from inside the house. Tré flipped the switch again and Mike and Billie piled out smiling mischievously. Tré winked at her and climbed out. She sat focusing on breathing before Mike pulled her door open.  
"T-thanks," she croaked, climbing from inside. He nodded and started forward following after Billie who was already letting himself in. Tré was at her side then. She breathed a sigh of alleviation and looked up at him.  
He still smiled down at her his hands in his pockets, but she saw a hint of concern in her eyes and she tried not to appear as intimidated as she was. She had thought being near Tré made her faint-hearted, the three of them together was stunning and exhilarating.  
"Don't worry," He whispered humorously, "they don't bite." She couldn't help but smile up at him as the light faded from the sky.  
"In that case," She informed him as they reached the door, "it's not them I'm worried about." He snapped his teeth at her and pushed the door open. She took a moment to let the glow fade from her cheeks before Dooder jumped from the door and tackled her. The tangle haired dog licked her face eagerly and barked in her ear. She cringed and Tré pushed him off of her. He dropped to his knees and hugged the odd looking hybrid around the neck affectionately. Dooder turned and licked Tré in the face, vigilantly. Abbey chortled as the dog's tail beat weakly against the stoop.  
Tré simpered up at her and explained, "He's been at the vet since Friday. He had to be neutered, he kept humping stuff."  
Abbey burst out laughing then. Tré stood placed his hands on his hips and looked miffed.  
"What's funny about that?" He asked and she couldn't tell if he was truly upset.  
"Nothing," She uttered, "just, if that's the reason you had him neutered, I'd imagine you're next in line." A smile broke his resolution. Mike and Billie stood expectantly at the bottom of the stairs. Mike stood with his gangly yet graceful arms crossed over his chest and Billie chuckling bemusedly. Dooder ran inside as Frankito walked in from the hallway.  
Tré gestured forward and said, "After you."  
Abbey's cheeks blazed as stepped inside.  
"Abbey," Billie divulged with a titter, "I think you may be a bad influence." Abbey halted in the door causing Tré to bump into her. He apologized and she flushed.  
"What do you mean?" She muttered jaunting to the couch.  
"Well," Mike told her with a smile, "He's being nice."  
"Psh," Tré wisecracked, "I'm always nice."  
"Sure you are," Mike retorted with a loud laugh.  
Billie Joe added, "I thought you said this girl was a Green Day expert, not a sap." Abbey's skin flamed and Tré just shrugged.  
Mike turned to her with a disparaging look, "what do you think Abbey? Is Tré a nice guy?"  
She stared down at her hands a moment, "No. Not really." Tré looked shocked. She looked up then beaming at the three of them.  
"But that's what makes him so nice."  
"Boom," Tré said stepping towards his band mates, "In your faces." Abbey giggled quite loudly and the three of them looked queerly at here and she shrugged.  
"I'm ready to play, I think," Mike announced and started up the stairs. With that, Tré and Billie started quickly after him. Tré turned and signaled for her to follow him. She skittered off the couch and hastened after them. They all filed in and with grace and speed, they were in their proper positions. Billie Joe already had the Stratocaster slung over his slim shoulders and was adjusting his microphone stand. Mike was plugging his bass into a Fender amplifier. Tré sat eagerly behind the drums, drumsticks in hand, smiling from ear to ear. Abbey closed the door behind her, gaping at them all the while. She simply slid down the door to watch them.  
Abruptly, Billie looked to them both and without a word they jumped into 'Geek Stink Breath.' Abbey ogled them in stupefaction. They were like magicians in her eyes. She was putty in their hands as they sang aloud and worked their instruments to their fullest capacity. Her eyes habitually fell upon Tré, whose tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he kept every beat and his face contorted with effort. They threaded easily into each song without cue.  
Abbey's breath was low and ragged in her chest after a couple hours of boisterously wonderful music beating against her eardrums. All three members of this glorious band were soaked in sweat thanks to the lack of ventilation in the room. They had finally wound down to 'Brutal Love' and Abbey gazed in fondness at them. As they reached their last notes, she jumped swiftly to her feet, despite their numbness and applauded emphatically. Tré smiled widely, showing his tiny teeth. Billie and Mike bowed low with gracious smiles on their faces.  
Later, the four of them sat at the kitchen. Billie had absently from a can of root beer, his green eyes sparkling with exhilaration. Abbey hunkered down quietly enthralled. Every once in a while they'd ask her a yes or no question and she'd shake her head in reply.  
"Abbey," Mike said now, looking serious, "How'd did you make it?"  
"Make what?" She squeaked in confusion.  
"On the beach," He reminded her. She balked and turned to Tré. He looked innocently over at her and she stood quickly.  
"He told you that?" She inquired wildly. Billie and Mike nodded slowly.  
She rounded and began out of the kitchen, her footsteps heavy.  
"Abbey, I," Tré called after her. She didn't stop to listen. She sat inside the spare room, her face in her hands. She knew it was irrational for her to expect him to not tell them about her past, she had hoped that he wouldn't go right into her dirty history. Tears were seeping down her cheeks and she curled up in a ball against the head board.  
Later that night, there was a soft knock on the door and she didn't answer. Tré came in anyway, ignoring her silence as she knew he would. He stood a dark silhouette in the door way. Abbey stared blankly up at him as he came to sit at the edge of the bed, a frown on his round face.  
"I'm sorry," He declared, "It wasn't my business to tell them."  
She shook her head, "It's okay."  
"Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine, Tré."  
"Are you sure?" She simply nodded.  
"I'm going to go to bed, I think," Abbey said vacantly. He stood then and began to the doorway. He turned toward her as he reached the hallway.  
"Good night," He murmured softly and began closing the door behind him.  
"'Night," Abbey whispered, sliding under the blankets and into an unrestful sleep.


	6. 21 Guns

Abbey woke sluggishly, covered in sweat. She threw the blanket off of her and dragged herself to the dresser to grab her things. She shuffled from the room, hearing Tré snore down the hall. Once downstairs, she closed herself the bathroom and peeled her clothes off, being careful not to observe her body too closely. She peered into her own tired, green eyes with meaning. She found that her cheeks had plumped up and her hair had regained a weak shine after only a few days. She turned the water of the shower boiling hot and stepped under and never even flinched at the scalding heat.

She still felt entirely dejected after the night before. She could only imagine the things Mike and Billie thought of her. Even Tré had seemed to be focusing on that detail and for good reason, she supposed. She already owned him her life, she couldn't stand the concept that he thought down upon her. When she dried herself and dressed, she walked into the kitchen where Frankito sat eating cereal from a large bowl.

She grinned warily at him and sat down at the island, "You're up early."

"So are you," Frankito observed with his mouth full, "It's only 5:30."

Abbey glanced at the clock on the stove and saw that he was right.

"You alright?" Frankito asked confused by her blank expression. She shrugged and got up to leave.

"Abbey," Frankito said to her, "whatever's bothering you, it's not as bad it seems." She turned to look at him and wondered how this barely teenage boy could so easily see through her. She continued back upstairs where she sat for the next hour and a half until Tré walked by, running his fingers through his messy hair. He stopped in the doorway and looked at her sleepily.

"You could have woke me up," He grumbled while stretching.

"I find your snoring soothing," She joked grimly. He chuckled and she just stared beyond him to the darkened wall.

"I'm going to go get dressed, I guess," Tré told her nonchalantly. Abbey took a second to appreciate that he was standing shirtless in her doorway and against her will her cheeks flooded with color. With that, he smirked and walked back down the hall. She went to wait for him in the living room, while he dressed.

He flipped the lights on as he came down with a puzzled look on his round face.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" He asked queerly. She shrugged and started wordlessly for the door. She felt bad. Tré had really done nothing to deserve the silent treatment and she wasn't even angry but she was mortified and embarrassed of her past. She knew she should let it go before her attitude lead to more questions which she wasn't sure she could answer.

She came to stand beside Gypsy and Tré followed after her sulkily. He unlocked the cherry red vehicle and Abbey slid inside. He got in and looked at her with confusion, so she faked a smile before staring out the windshield. Tré didn't seem convinced but he pulled out of the driveway, nonetheless. They coasted quickly down the streets and Tré seemed more reckless than usual.

As they pulled up in front of Adeline Records, Tré turned to her, his blue eyes full of uncertainty.

"I'm really sorry about last night," He began, "I had to tell-"

Abbey cut him off, "Tré, I'm not mad at you. I understand." His eyes searched her face looking for signs that she was deceiving him. After a moment, he sighed in relief. She thanked him for the ride and hurried out of Gypsy's interior.

As Abbey expected, he was gone by the time she reached the door. She sighed and started down the road in the other direction. As she went the neighborhoods got worse and worse and the more nervous she became. The areas she had explored in the past were much more hospitable but despite the risks, she delved deeper. She walked for hours until the sun was high overhead leaving her sweating but found she still had two hours to kill. Eventually, she happened upon a gritty, little coffee shop in the middle of the Barrio. It didn't seem to fit in a place like this. Abbey liked places like this, obviously. She thought it was the best she would get and shoved her way inside.

She stopped short at the door. A familiar song drifted from the small, smoky stage and her eyes watered. She would have known the voice just about anywhere. She turned toward the voice and smiled. Sitting upon a worn stool, her dark hair curled around her pretty face was Autumn, acoustic guitar in her lap as she sang honey sweet into the microphone. She was naturally drawn to this girl, her best friend. She hesitated next to table right near the front before pulling herself into a chair.

Questions coursed through her mind. Why was she here? When did she come? The rest she pushed away because the pain attached to them was too much to bear. Autumn sang through several songs and every one brought up bittersweet memories. Finally, when her set list was finished she announced that she would be taking a break. Abbey stood on shaky legs and began towards her. The manager of the shop passed Autumn a bottle of water and she stood in singularly in the corner drinking from it.

"Autumn," Abbey called out to her shrilly. Autumn turned; her eyes wide but as she took in Abbey's countenance, she rolled her eyes and turned away. Abbey's breath hitched in her throat. Her first thought was Autumn had no interest in speaking to her. She rounded mutely and shoved past patrons out the door. Pain ripped through her as she trudged back toward Adeline Records. She didn't really know where she was but at that moment she could have cared less if she got lost.

She didn't stop to notice that someone had followed her out. Hot tears streamed down her sharp cheeks and she made no effort to dry them. She walked on and on for blocks before she perceived the sound of footsteps behind her growing steadily closer and closer. She found as her fear intensified, that she was gasping for air. She felt her pockets for anything she could use to defend herself and found absolutely nothing. She braced herself, trying to remember what to do in a situation like this, she knew in the condition she was in, she'd never be able to make a run for it. As she passed by an alleyway, it happened.

Someone slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her down the alley, her screams muffled against their palm. They slammed her against the dirty, brick wall. She found herself face to face with a switch blade, she couldn't even focus on the man's face but she heard his voice loud and clear.

"Give me everything in your pockets," He growled at her, waving the blade too close to her face for comfort.

"I don't have anything," She blubbered, shrinking away from him.

"Bullshit," He howled and hit her in the face. She shrieked and fell into the garbage behind her. He ripped her to her feet by her collar and forcefully placed her back against the wall.

He pressed the knife to her throat and she could feel it break the skin.

"Empty your pockets, now," He snarled, "I don't want your blood on my hands." A fresh sting of terror rippled through her and she began turning out her empty pockets. He hissed as each time she came up empty handed and she felt sure she was going be murdered in broad daylight in a dingy alleyway.

Just then someone screamed, "Get away from her!"

Both she and her captor turned in shock. At the end of the back street stood Autumn, a brick in her hand. The man let out a cackling laugh and turned to face her. Abbey grasped her throat glad to be free of the piercing feeling.

"What are you going to do about it, sweet heart?" He taunted before grasping a hand full of Abbey's hair. She whimpered and tried to pull away.

"I fucking warned you," Autumn called. Then without another word, she lobbed the brick at him. It hit him squarely in the stomach and he released Abbey's hair before collapsing to his knees.

Autumn advanced and Abbey scrambled away from the man. Autumn grabbed him by the collar with one hand and delivered a blow to his face with the other. Abbey cringed as she heard his nose break.

"You can't just go around hurting people," She shouted in his bloodied face, "you fucking scum!" The man's eyes rolled in his head and Autumn dropped him carelessly to the ground.

She rushed to Abbey and pulled her to her feet.

"You're lucky I was passing by. Are you okay?" Autumn asked grasping her gently by the shoulders. Abbey found she couldn't speak. Autumn's blue eyes searched Abbey's now bruising face before becoming wide in her slim face.

"A-Abbey?" She squeaked. Abbey had begun to cry again and simply nodded. Autumn pulled Abbey's scrawny body into an unexpected, tight hug and to Abbey's surprise Autumn began to sob into her hair.

Autumn pushed her back then, her blue eyes tear-rimmed and serious.

"I thought you were dead," She shrieked, "We all did!"

"I-I'm sorry," Abbey told her hoarsely. Autumn shook her head.

"I'm taking you home," She said to Abbey briskly, pulling her from the alley "Where are you staying?"

Once back on the street, she shoved Abbey into the passenger seat of her familiar truck and went around before getting inside. Once in, she turned to Abbey.

"Well?" She asked expectantly.

"Well, what?" Abbey inquired, hoping she wouldn't want an explanation.

"Give me your address?" Autumn demanded.

"Wait," Abbey halted her, thinking of Tré, "Where are you staying? Can I stay with you?"

Autumn's face softened, "I have a place not far from here but I don't really have any room." Abbey remembered Autumn's daughter then.

"Is Alyx here in California?" Abbey asked then.

Autumn nodded, "She's with Paul."

Despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she had to ask, "Who's Paul?"

Autumn laughed sharply, "That's a story for another day. Address?" Abbey sighed in defeat and told her what she knew of how to get back to Tré's house. They cruised the streets in silence, though Autumn stole distracted glances at Abbey every once in a while, as though she would disappear.

Autumn gasped as they pulled in the driveway of the large white house.

"Autumn," Abbey told her, "About the person I'm staying with-"

Autumn interrupted her, "I don't care who they are. I'm going to give them a piece of my mind for letting you wander around Oakland alone." Abbey shrank back from her anger and ducked out of the truck's door.

Autumn practically dragged Abbey behind her to the door. Abbey stepped behind Autumn's tall frame as she began to bang on Tré's door. The door flew open then to a frazzled looking Tré, grasping his keys. Autumn's eyes widened but her scowl did not wane.

"Tré Cool?" She asked bitterly.

"Yeah," He said with bewilderment, "Who are you?" Autumn stepped aside then to reveal Abbey and her black and blue cheek.

"I'm her best friend," Autumn grumbled. As Tré took in Abbey's rattled personage, shock and relief mingled in his eyes.

"Abbey," He started.

"I found her in the Barrio with a knife to her throat," She shouted at him, bitterly. He gaped back in forth between the two women, for a moment.

"Come in," He said simply. Autumn guided Abbey to the couch and Tré stood before them unsure what to do. Autumn cleared her throat and his light-blue eyes focused on her.

"She needs to put ice on that bruise or it's going to swell," She told him. He nodded and started for the kitchen. Abbey's cheeks were burning. Her best friend, after all, was bossing around her hero in his own home.

"So," Autumn asked turning her burning gaze on Abbey, "How did this happen?"

"I'm not really sure how to explain," Abbey sputtered helplessly.

"Abbey, you need to call your mom," Autumn began, "She thinks you-"

"Shh!" Abbey told her ferociously, "I don't want to talk about it."

"It doesn't having to be this way," Autumn whispered, "If you'd just tell the cops-" Tré walked in then with a bag of frozen peas.

"I don't have any plastic bags," He admitted awkwardly, "Will this work?"

Autumn rolled her eyes at him, "It'll work." She stood and grabbed it from his hand before pressing it to Abbey's damaged face. Abbey sighed in relief and took it from Autumn's hands. Autumn stood and looked down at Abbey, her eyes filled with pain and puzzlement.

"I have to pick up Alyx from Paul's," She told Abbey, pulling a pen and a receipt from her pocket. She bent over the table and scribbled furiously on the back of the paper.

She shoved it into Abbey's empty hand, "This discussion isn't over." With that, she nodded to Tré and let herself out.

Abbey and Tré look soberly at each other.

"I'm sorry," They both began at the same time. Abbey dropped the peas and the paper, stood and came to stand a few feet in front of him.

"I'm such an idiot," She gushed, "I just got so upset. I should have known better."

"No," He told her, "I should have realized-"

"Tré," She stopped him, "That's what I've been trying to tell you. You've done everything for me and more. Don't kick yourself about it."

"I was going to come look for you, after Adrienne called." Abbey winced at the thought of Adrienne.

He continued, "I thought I should give you time to cool off. I never thought-" Abbey tensed, new tears brimming in her eyes at the thought of her attack.

She realized that these days she owed her life to just about everyone. Tré looked mildly uncomfortable but sympathetic.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" He asked nervously, his thin lips pulled in an uncharacteristic frown.

Tears flowed down her cheeks, then and she covered her face to shield Tré.

"I was sure I was going to die," She admitted, unrelenting sobs racking her frail body.

"B-but you didn't," Tré reminded her somberly; his hands tucked into the pockets of his 50s diner pants.

"If it weren't for Autumn though," She trailed off, her brain replaying the scenario over and over.

"It won't happen again," Tré told her suddenly serious. She peered up at him from her hands; his blue eyes pierced her tear-sparkling green ones.

"I said I would help you," He notified her, "and that includes keeping you safe." Against her will her face pulled into a wary smile.

"Tré," She told him emphatically, "I'm so thankful for you."

He smiled at her for a moment and without another word pulled her into a gentle hug. She tensed against his chest and as he was about to release her, she wrapped her skinny arms around him, holding him to her. She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her tear-stained and bruised face against his chest and to her surprise everything hurt a little less. They remained that way until she could cry no longer and even a little longer.


	7. She

_It was as though time had slowed down. The smell of mildew and garbage clung to her nostrils. Her ragged breath ripped painfully through her chest as she ran. Her eyes watered in fear and exertion as the pounding footsteps behind her grew closer and closer. The sun overhead glared in her face like a spotlight, as though it were waiting for her to slip up._

_ Her heart thundered in her ears and without warning a fist was ripping her to the ground by her hair. She slammed against the dirty pavement with a dull thud. A silhouette stood ominously above her a gleaming blade in hand. The dark figure pressed it to her throat._

Abbey would have shot awake, if there hadn't been a strong arm tucked firmly around her. She inhaled sharply and squirmed in fear turning to see her captor. She quickly stilled as she saw Tré's sleeping face, his head leaning against the back of the couch and a soft snore emanating from his throat. Her cheeks reddened and she attempted to slip from his grasp. Then Frankito started down the stairs, an entertained look on his face.

"Help?" Abbey squeaked quietly. Frankito approached with a faint chuckle, he clutched Tré's shoulder, then.

"Dad," He shouted shaking him and Abbey in the process. His grip on Abbey loosened but he didn't open his eyes. Abbey took this opportunity to make her escape and ducked from beneath his muscular bicep only to accidentally sit on the bag of not-so-frozen peas. Frankito shook Tré harder and finally after a moment he squinted up at him.

He scratched his mussed up auburn hair and mumbled, "The fuck?"

Frankito looked down upon him with an amused grin, "Dad, it's 7:40."

"What?" Abbey asked frantically. Without waiting for an answer Abbey shot to her feet and ran upstairs to get ready. Ever since last night, she had been determined to make it up to Adrienne, if she'd let her. Abbey tried to envision Adrienne's face red with anger but the image was unclear. She dressed as quickly as possible and darted back downstairs where Tré sat grinning tiredly up at her. She blushed as she reached the couch. He stood and walked towards her and she surprised them both by taking a few steps back. The time she spent in his arms was wonderful but she never in a million years expected anything to come of it. Tré turned then and quickly grabbed his keys from the table. They wordlessly slipped through the door and started toward Gypsy. Once inside, Tré smiled contentedly and blazed from the driveway.

It was an especially warm day for late summer and Abbey could feel the sweat beading on the back of her neck as they pulled up out front of Adeline. Tré caught her attention and for a moment they just looked quietly into each other's eyes. Rouge blossomed in Abbey's bruised cheeks and she had to look away. Tré laughed in amusement and cleared his throat.

"Adrienne has my number," He began, "So if you want to come home early or anything." He trailed off and Abbey smiled inwardly at his mention of home, it seemed Tré had grown comfortable with her presence.

"I'll be good, today," She promised only half-joking.

She slipped from Gypsy's smooth interior and towards the nondescript building. As she reached the door she rounded to see Tré still watching, an encouraging smirk on his thin lips. She waved quickly and shoved inside. Already the exquisite lobby was flooded with just about every type of person. She squeezed against the wall as an old man with a large cart, moved to refill the vending machine, only to bump into a young boy, whose face was extremely reminiscent of his father's.

"Jacob," She said then, "Is your mom around?"

"Yeah," Jacob said shoving away from the wall, "She's around here somewhere, running around like a chicken with her head cut off, probably." Abbey chuckled and followed after him towards Adrienne's office. The desk outside Adrienne's door was stacked with invoices for Abbey to file but first she had to apologize.

She knocked timidly and Jacob scurried down the hallway calling after someone.

"Come in," Adrienne shouted from inside and Abbey let herself in, closing the door behind her.

"Adrienne," She started, "I'm so sorry." Adrienne glowered at computer screen before her.

"Taking off like that was inexcusable," Abbey stammered. Adrienne looked up at her now and gasped. She stood and walked toward Abbey. She grabbed Abbey's chin and turned her face to examine it.

"You look awful," She told her softly. Abbey instinctively jerked away from her grasp. Adrienne didn't seem to notice as she picked up the phone from her desk.

"Sofia," She said immediately, "I've got an emergency here, come as soon as you can and bring your kit." With that she placed the phone back on its receiver and sat back down in her cushy office chair.

"Sofia?" Abbey asked softly, "Who's she?" Adrienne had already returned to scowling at her computer.

"Our makeup artist, for photo shoots," Adrienne told her without looking up.

Then, a tall blonde stepped through the door, a large makeup case in her hands. Abbey glanced nervously back at her and Sofia gasped, in the same manner Adrienne had.

"This really in an emergency," Sofia said starting toward Abbey, "You're a disaster."

"Sofia," Adrienne admonished her.

"What?" She asked with attitude, "It's true." Adrienne sighed and Abbey stood silently, embarrassed.

"Get her cleaned up," Adrienne chuckled, "But quickly, Jacob and the guys have a photo shoot at 10." Sofia nodded and practically shoved Abbey into a chair.

"Can we get more light in here?" Sofia asked Adrienne, "I have a lot of work to do." Adrienne pulled the curtains aside, flooding the room with sunlight. For the next 45 minutes, Abbey felt like a guinea pig as Sofia applied huge amounts of concealer to her damaged face. That part was the quickest but Sofia insisted that she be allowed to completely make her over. She seemed almost excited. Abbey guessed that she was good.

She applied makeup to Abbey's eyes, which she could only imagine was more expensive than she could ever afford. She plucked Abbey's eyebrows until her eyes watered from the sting. From there, she covered Abbey's chapped lips in lipstick and lip liner, snarking all the time. Finally, she tugged Abbey's hair into a thick braid at the back of her neck before stepping back to admire her work.

"I'm a miracle worked," She told Abbey with a smug smile. Abbey sat still so as not to ruin Sofia's masterpiece. Sofia quickly called Adrienne into the office. As she stepped inside, she gasped, again, but this time in awe.

"You're a miracle worker," She told Sofia, confirming her thoughts.

"I know," Sofia told her with a grin, "she's actually kind of cute when she doesn't look like she was in a bar fight." Abbey flushed and it took all her strength not to cover her face with her hands.

"What do you think?" Sofia asked Abbey holding a mirror for her to see. Abbey, too, gasped. She found herself more beautiful than she had ever been. There was no trace of the purple blemish that had adorned her face just an hour before. Her green eyes were bright and glowing, her pink lips plump and pretty.

"You're amazing," Abbey murmured. Adrienne nodded in ascent.

Abbey stood then.

"I really should get to work," She reminded them. Adrienne smiled at her initiative and held the door open for her.

As she skittered out Sofia called after her, "You better not screw up my hard work." For the next 7 hours, Abbey powered through her paperwork, finishing in record time. She typed out memos and fliers with a smile on her face, the whole time. She was beginning to feel human again.

At five, she knocked on Adrienne's door to say good-bye. Adrienne called for her to come in and as she stepped inside Adrienne smiled up at her.

"I was just stopping into to say bye," Abbey told her with a grin. Now that her fear had subsided, she really enjoyed working for Adrienne.

"You were great, today," Adrienne complimented her.

"Thanks," Abbey said clinging to the doorknob, thinking of Tré most likely already waiting out front, "That means a lot to me."

"Well, we're all having a thing tonight, at the beach," Adrienne told her cautiously. Abbey just stood looking her in her dark eyes.

"I'd like you to come," Adrienne said then, before adding, "If you want to."

"I'll be there," Abbey confirmed with a smile before excusing herself from Adrienne's office. As she stepped outside, the humidity hit her full on, like a cup of hot water thrown in her face. Already at the curb, Tré sat inside Gypsy with the top down. As she approached she saw he was wearing a black wife beater with his tattooed biceps exposed. She thanked God for the concealer on her cheeks as she blushed scarlet. As she hopped in the passenger seat, Tré did a double take.

"What?" She asked shyly as his eyes took in her made over face. To her surprise Tré himself blushed. Her eyebrows rose and her cheeks grew even hotter.

"Nothing," He told her queerly, "You just look different." She chuckled and pulled her leather jacket from her shoulders. Tré placed a small plastic bag in her lap.

"What is this?" She asked him with puzzlement.

"It's a tank top and shorts," He started, "This is California, it's too hot to wear jeans and T-shirts all the time." She blanched, remembering about the beach. She thanked him hesitantly and they started down the street.

"You can change when we get home," He told her with a smirk, "Mike and them are already at the beach." 'Of course he already knows Adrienne invited me,' She thought, 'or maybe it was his idea.' As she pushed thought away, Tré flipped the radio on, where Billy Idol's 'Dancing with Myself' played. Tré surprised her by turning it up and beginning to sing and by the time they pulled in the driveway both of them were singing at the top of their lungs. Tré smiled coyly at her as he let her inside where Frankito sat, already dressed in a wetsuit, waxing a surfboard.

"How's the surf going to be today, Frankie?" Tré asked him with a proud grin.

"There are supposed to be huge swells," Frankito told him with more excitement than Abbey had ever seen from him. She excused herself upstairs with the plastic bag in hand. As she stepped inside the spare room, she sighed with worry. She stripped down to her underwear before examining the contents of the bag. She blushed as she pulled a skimpy red tank top and jean shorts from inside. 'Way to be subtle, Tré,' She thought as she pulled them on. She pulled her leather jacket back on over her bare shoulders without a thought.

"You're wearing a leather jacket to the beach?" Tré asked with an odd look in his eyes, as she came downstairs.

"It's not even that hot," She lied swiftly, heading for the door. Tré rolled his blue eyes and followed her out, Frankito in tow.

"Shotgun!" Frankito called hopping into the passenger seat of Gypsy. Abbey chuckled and got in the backseat. They drifted through the burning California streets with smiles on their faces.

By the time they parked at Crown Beach, Frankito was already out of the car and running toward the water, surfboard under his arm. Tré hopped out of Gypsy, before opening Abbey's door for her with an accommodating grin. She smiled over at him and they began down the beach, where a black S.U.V. sat next to a darkened patch of sand, which had been used for a bonfire sometime recently, surrounded by lawn chairs. She kicked off her Chuck's and held them over her shoulder by the laces. She sighed, breathing the smell of salt water and feeling the sand between her toes. Mike hopped out of the S.U.V., a small, pretty, blonde girl in his arms. She shrieked in joy and Mike put her down with a chuckle. The girl ran to Tré and he grabbed and spun her around quickly in a circle.

"Uncle Tré," She squealed as he placed her back on her feet, "What took you so long?" Abbey noticed the little girl had already a light tan.

"I was picking Abbey," Tré explained, gesturing to her. The blonde child smiled shyly up at her.

"Hi, I'm Ryan," She told Abbey with a quick wave before running to the S.U.V., as Mike's wife, Brittney climbed from the passenger seat. Ryan was just her likeness in a smaller version. The beautiful blonde, smiled toothily and scooped Ryan into her arms. As they approached the large truck Abbey saw a mini version of Mike, Brixton, no doubt. Without notice, she was suddenly smiling so hard her cheeks hurt even worse than before. Tré smirked over at her and sat down, while she shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts before wondering how exactly Tré had figured out her clothing sizes. She looked at him with confusion and he beamed innocently up at her, before a Frisbee hit him in the head.

He and Abbey turned to see Billie Joe walking hand in hand with Adrienne, laughing heartily, Jakob and Joey behind them, both in wet suits. Abbey burst out laughing, then. Tré frowned comically at her and raised an eyebrow before standing, grabbing the Frisbee, launching it at Billie and missing completely.

Billie chuckled as the Frisbee sailed off into the choppy ocean. In the distance, Abbey could see Frankito paddling out, Jakob and Joey running out with their boards, to meet him.

"Nice one," Mike commented with a laugh, walking out to meet Billie and Adrienne. Tré shrugged and sat back down before waving Abbey over. She knelt beside him and he pulled a flask from the pocket of his shorts.

"Want some?" He asked her slyly, before taking a swig.

"What about Billie?" Abbey asked in a hushed tone, her eyes wide with worry. Tré rolled his eyes.

"Billie's fine, I mean people get drunk at our shows all the time," Tré said as though he was reassuring himself, "just be discreet."

"I think I'm okay," She told him, pulling herself into the chair next to him. Tré shrugged and slid the flask back in his pocket with a smile. Soon, Mike had started a driftwood fire, the flames burning blue and green due to sea salt. The 9 of them sat in a circle around the heat. Billie Joe sat strumming an acoustic guitar, absently, Adrienne's chair pulled up close next to him, a smile on her round face. They all talked expeditiously with the exception of Abbey, who was contented to just listen. Tré smiled over at her and drank from his flask, occasionally.

Ryan and Brixton slept in the laps of Mike and Brittney, smiles on their faces as the sunset streaked orange and pink across the sky, until it met the ocean.

"I think I should probably get them home," Brittney said gazing at Ryan's dreaming face with a very maternal look. Mike started to stand but Adrienne held her hand up.

"I can give you a ride," Adrienne told her with a smile, looking to Jakob and Joey, who sat looking only mildly interested in their surroundings, before turning to Tré, "I can take Frankito, too. I drove the van." Tré looked to Frankito, who just shrugged and stood. Abbey blushed as Mike and Billie kissed their gorgeous wives good-bye before they started down the beach to the parking lot, Ryan and Brixton in each of their arms.

Once they were gone, Tré hopped to his feet and started down the darkened beach. Abbey, Mike and Billie just stared after him in confusion.

"Are you coming?" He shouted over his shoulder and Abbey was on her feet following him, Mike and Billie in tow, the three still looking puzzled. As they reached him, he smiled and pulled something from behind his ear that Abbey hadn't seen before. He held the joint out for her to see.

"Do you partake?" He asked her sounding quite amused, she nodded hesitantly and Billie and Mike laughed.

He pulled a lighter from his pocket expertly lit the J and inhaled, before passing it to Billie. Abbey's eyes were wide as Tré began to cough and Billie gave the joint to Mike. Before long, the three of them were coughing, standing in the middle of the beach.

"It's been a while," Billie grumbled, a smile on his plump lips. Mike and Tré laughed and soon the joint was in Abbey's shaking hand. 'Don't do anything stupid,' she warned herself before taking a large hit, only to hack painfully. When the joint was burned to almost nothing, Tré threw the roach in the sand and they made their way back to the bonfire.

The four of them sat close together, Billie picking the acoustic back up and strumming with more focus. Their eyes grew red and soon they were all four making the most stupid jokes any one had ever heard, including Abbey, which surprised the guys.

"We should get you high, more often," Tré commented with an elated grin, after she made a particularly ridiculous joke about Mike's hair. Abbey rubbed her drooping eyes and smiled admiringly back at him. Mike cleared his throat, startling them both.

At some point Billie had acquired a napkin and pen and now sat scribbling on to it, on his knee.

"I'd better get Billie home," Mike told them with a sleepy smile. Billie grinned toothily.

"I've got to play this shit out," Billie told them standing, his guitar across his back. They said their good-byes and Mike and Billie drove from the beach, as the bonfire reduced to embers.

Tré and Abbey made their way back to Gypsy, so close their hands bumped occasionally as they walked in comfortable silence. They cruised the dark streets, as Blind Melon sang 'Rain' through the speakers. Abbey sighed with joy as the wind blew her too-long hair back. They soon pulled into the driveway, Abbey's eyes growing heavy. They ambled to the door of the darkened house and Tré let them in.

He flipped the lights on, once inside and rotated Abbey to take off her jacket and in her thoughtlessness, she let him. She remembered as he gasped and dropped her jacket to the ground. She went to turn quickly but he gently grabbed her shoulders to stop her. A knot formed in her throat as he took it all in.

Her back was barely visible through the tank top, but what skin that was exposed was covered in scars. Long, pink, jagged scars lined the skin of her back; the rest was marred by burns. He turned her to face him then, his light-blue eyes blazing with anger and shock.

She shook her head, silently pleading for him to not ask.

"W-who did that to you?" Tré demanded with a quaver in his furious voice.

"No," She gasped, tears brimming her wide, green eyes.

"No, what?" He asked confusion mingling with his anger, no sign of relenting slipping though. Her knees gave out then and she dropped to the floor. She relived all the memories she had blocked out for those months, in a matter of seconds. A sob ripped through her, though to her it sounded more like the cry of a wounded animal.

"Please," She begged in a hushed tone remembering Frankito upstairs, tears streaming down her cheeks, ruining Sofia's work, "Don't make me talk about it."

Tré too, dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, protectively. She burrowed into his chest, pleading with herself to forget, for the pain to wane like last night, but it remained.

"Never?" He whispered into her hair. She turned her head to look at him and found their faces only inches apart, his eyeliner rimmed eyes piercing hers. He softly swiped a tear from her eye and her skin became hot.

"Someday," She promised him, cursing herself inside, all the while. She froze as he leaned in toward her. He lightly kissed her forehead and pulled her closer.

"I'll be waiting," He pledged. Any doubt she had then about Tré wanting her around vanished and for a moment, only a moment she felt no pain.


	8. Drama Queen

The next week passed in ambiguous simplicity. After that night Tré and Abbey had had no unnecessary contact but continued to gravitate toward each other whenever they were near one another. They had developed a bit of a routine; He'd drop her off at Adeline Records at 7:45 A.M. every day, she'd bust her hump for Adrienne, Sofia would use Abbey as her private test subject and at 5 P.M. sharp, she would meet him out front, looking like a new woman, thanks to the makeup and that she was finally gaining some weight.

That Friday seemed to be no different as Tré wheeled Gypsy into the parking lot of Adeline.

"Tré," She asked him then, "What do you do all day?" He smirked over at her, his blue eyes reddened due to him and Abbey staying up until probably 3 A.M. watching horror movies.

"Lately," He began with a yawn, "Mike, Billie and me have been going to Jingletown and laying down some demos." Abbey's eyes widened with excitement.

"You think I could hear one, sometime?" She asked suddenly shy.

"Maybe," He teased her, "Maybe not." Nonetheless, she smiled as she exited Gypsy with a wave and headed inside.

It was a busy day at Adeline. They had just signed a new band and so Adrienne spent all day negotiating with their manager, Sofia set the band up for a photo shoot and Abbey filed paper work in regards to the publishing of their soon to be recorded album. Despite all that, by the end of the day Sofia had found the time to make Abbey's face up, gradually using less and less concealer now that her bruise had faded to an ugly brownish-yellow.

As Abbey left that day, she'd expected Tré to be waiting for her with a smile as always but as she met him at the curb, he frowned anxiously up at her.

"What's wrong?" She asked him as she plopped down in the passenger seat, worry creasing her forehead.

"Nothing is wrong, so to speak," He told as they began down the street.

"Then, what's not wrong?" Abbey inquired with a small chuckle, as the wind blew her hair in her face.

"Lisea called me this morning," Tré told her simply. Abbey froze next to him at the mention of his first ex-wife.

"And?" She squeaked in response.

"Ramona's coming for the week," He stated then. Abbey was instantly racked with guilt, knowing his apprehension about the arrival of his daughter was her fault.

They were quiet until they pulled in the driveway. Frankito stood in the middle of the yard throwing a tennis ball for Dooder, before waving at them.

"I can get out of your hair if you need me to," Abbey told Tré suddenly.

"No, no, no," He responded to her emphatically, "I'll just explain the situation to her and she'll understand." It sounded to Abbey like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"I-if you say so," Abbey said hesitantly as they stepped out into the yard.

Tré smiled as Dooder ran to him, jumped up and began licking his face.

"Yes, yes," He cooed petting the odd dog, "I'm home." Dooder soon lost interest and ran after the ball.

"I've got to drive to the airport," He informed Abbey and Frankito, "Frankie, you want to go with?"

Frankito smiled and shook his head.

"I think I'll just chill with Abbey until you get back," He told his father, picking up the ball the Dooder dropped at his feet. Tré shrugged and turned to Abbey then.

He grabbed her wrist, gently and pulled her toward the white house.

"Everything's going to be okay," He assured her, running his finger through his shaggy, auburn hair. She nodded and for the first time since last week he placed his hand on Abbey's now plump cheek, sending heat rising in her face.

"I'll see you later," He murmured with his thin lipped smile. She nodded again wordlessly. He turned and was backing from the driveway before she could utter a good-bye.

For the next few hours, her and Frankito prowled around the large house doing anything they could to keep entertained, eventually making their way upstairs. As they sat in the practice room, Abbey's fingers flew easily over the keyboard, her odd, melancholy melodies meshing with Frankito's adept bass lines. 'Everything will be okay,' Abbey told herself in the same manner Tré had told her, 'Tré will tell her and things will be fine.' Abbey began to key the notes of 'Long, Long Journey' by Enya and Frankito quickly coincided with her. For a moment, Abbey envisioned Tré behind the complex drum set, playing along with them and her heart sped up.

Abruptly, Dooder began barking, downstairs. Abbey looked nervously over at Frankito, who was already removing the bass from his shoulder by its strap, looking just as concerned. They clamored downstairs to the living room. Frankito casually sat down and Abbey mimicked him, her breath shallow and stifled. Dooder continued to bark as the oak door sprung open. A young girl, who was a near splitting image of Tré, stepped through. Her long, auburn hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of her neck; her greenish-blue eyes were accentuated by gray eye shadow and kohl eyeliner. She was smiling down at Frankito and Abbey dared feel relieved. 'He told her,' she thought tentatively. Then, Ramona's eyes moved to Abbey and her face flooded with confusion. 'He didn't tell her!' she thought gravely.

Tré came in, carrying a suitcase then with a skittish look that confirmed Abbey's suspicion. Ramona turned to Tré with a skeptical look. Tré shrugged and smiled innocently.

"Ramona," He began, "this is Abbey." She rounded to look at Abbey who was frozen, her eyes wide. Ramona's eyebrow rose and she looked from Abbey to Tré and back again.

"Dad," Ramona said in a chiming voice with a hint of a New York accent, "can I talk to you in the other room?"

"S-sure," Tré gulped and started down the hallway to the kitchen.

Abbey glanced to Frankito and he met her look with apprehension. All Abbey could hear was Ramona's pealing voice in the other room but not the words she spoke. Frankito cleared his throat after a moment.

"So, you're pretty good at keyboard," He told Abbey cautiously.

"Thanks," Abbey told him with a grim smile, "You're pretty good at… well, every instrument." Frankito shook his head.

With a chuckle he said, "Actually, I kinda suck at the drums." Abbey didn't have time to comprehend the irony in that.

Then Ramona and Tré filed back into the room. If looks could kill Abbey would have been dead, as Ramona stared daggers at her. Tré stood helplessly behind her, his azure eyes filled with disquiet.

"Nice to meet you," Ramona snarled in her musical tone, "I'm Ramona." 'This is going to be a long week,' Abbey thought helplessly.

A long week it was, indeed. Ramona refused to have anything to with Abbey, including eat in the same room and though at first Ramona would leave, after a few days Abbey had taken to eating upstairs in the spare bedroom, by herself. Tré had adopted an apologetic look every time he and Abbey spoke, which was very briefly and basically only when he picked her up from Adeline. The times he did pick her up that week, he was late and once altogether didn't show up and Sofia had to drive her home, groaning about it the whole time. Abbey truly missed spending time with Tré but attempted to show no sign of it as she scurried to the spare room, upstairs as soon as she was able. Perhaps, the worst part was a habit Ramona had picked up since she'd met Abbey.

Ramona had adapted to 'accidentally' harming Abbey. The first day as Ramona passed Abbey in the living room she had stepped on her toes, that possibly was truly an accident but it escalated from there. The next day, Abbey had been sitting at the kitchen table before work, Ramona 'tripped' and spilled a glass of orange juice in Abbey's lap. Abbey completely understood Ramona's reasoning, therefore said nothing to Tré when the day after Ramona had elbowed her in the eye while throwing the ball for Dooder.

That Thursday, Abbey sat on the curb as purple, menacing clouds rolled in from the sea. She had been sitting in the same spot for 45 minutes, waiting. Finally as tiny warm droplets of rain hit her cheeks, she stood with a harrowed sigh. With that, the sky opened up to a downpour. She booked it back inside where Sofia was talking to the receptionist. She turned and as her eyes fell on Abbey she scowled.

"You ruined my work," She growled.

"It's raining," Abbey uttered simply.

As Sofia coasted down the wet roads she asked Abbey, "So, what's the issue?"

"What do you mean?" Abbey asked with a cringe.

"Your weird little arrangement with Tré," Sofia said as the windshield wipers swiped away at the heavy rain, "I thought it was going well."

"His daughter's in town," Abbey told her vigilantly.

"Ramona?" Sofia asked as they pulled on to Tré's street, "I thought she was a pretty sweet kid."

"I suppose she is," Abbey said with a shrug, "when she doesn't hate your guts."

They pulled into the driveway and Sofia looked sympathetically into Abbey's mascara streaked eyes. Abbey was very grateful for Sofia; she counted her as a friend despite the fact that they were total opposites.

"I'm sure that's not the case," Sofia told her, "she's just protective over her dad."

Abbey opened the door to Sofia's Volkswagen Beetle, "If you say so." She stepped out into the rain and waved good-bye Sofia and started toward the door. As she reached the stoop, Sofia had backed out and was driving off back toward Adeline. Abbey had noticed the absence of Gypsy but had only figured she was put away in the garage because of the rain. So, when she turned the knob and found the door locked it came as shock to her. She tried it twice more to be sure.

So she sat in the rain, soaked to the bone for the next two hours before the rain sputtered to a stop. After dark, she finally saw Gypsy's round headlights skirting down the driveway. She stood and started off to meet them, she wasn't even mad, just cold, wet and maybe a little disappointed. As soon as Tré's eyes found her, he was out of the car and starting towards her. Ramona ducked out of the passenger seat with a smug grin.

"I-I'm soooo sorry," Tré started, the contrite look stronger than ever. Abbey shook her head sorrowfully. Frankito hopped out of the back seat and rolled his eyes.

"Ramona's phone broke," He announced with indigence. Abbey smiled with understanding and looked Ramona in her turquoise eyes.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Abbey told her without condescension. Ramona frowned and nodded.

As soon as Abbey stepped inside Tré covered her with a blanket and lead her upstairs. He hesitated at the door of the spare room.

"I feel like crap," He told her, leaning against the door frame, a tortured look in his eyes.

She smiled over at him from under the blanket, "Don't be. I'll be okay."

"Not just about this," he told her after a moment, "Ramona doesn't get it."

"I get where she's coming from," Abbey confided, with a shiver, "I'm an outsider."

"Not anymore, you aren't," Tré proclaimed, his blue eyes twinkling with seriousness, "You're my… friend."

"She's your daughter," Abbey reminded him, "I'm just going to stay out her way and hope she'll get used to having me around."

Tré sighed with exasperation and nodded. He left the room and Abbey stripped from her soaking wet clothes and changed, quickly burrowing back into the pile of blankets which were damp on the inside. She wanted badly for Ramona to like her but she was clearly a threat in her eyes. Abbey had no idea how to convey the fact that she had no intention of taking her father away. Abbey staked no claim on Tré nor did she expect to despite the oddity of their friendship.

There was a knock at the door, then.

Abbey startled from her thoughts squeaked, "Come in." The door creaked open to reveal Ramona a semi-chastened.

"Could you come downstairs?" She asked in her musical voice. Abbey nodded skeptically and ducked from under the blankets. She reluctantly followed Ramona down the stairs and into the bathroom.

"Did you need something?" Abbey asked her with curiosity.

Ramona grabbed a brush from the counter, "I'll do your hair for you."

So, that's how Abbey came to be at the mercy of Ramona as she sat before the mirror. Ramona was none to gentle but Abbey wasn't tender headed and didn't mind.

"So this weird thing you have with my dad," Ramona started her sea colored eyes wide with mischief, "What is it?"

"Um," Abbey stuttered, "we're friends?"

"Friends who live together and hardly know each other?" Ramona asked with only mild malice.

"I-it's not like that," Abbey began with thought, "at least I don't think so." Then there was sharp tugging in the back of Abbey's head and a snap.

"Oops," Ramona condescended, "I broke it." Abbey's hands instinctively touched her hair; the head of the brush had snapped off and was matted into her hair to the roots. Tears brimmed in Abbey's eyes as she darted from the room yanking at the brush head to no avail. Sobs escaped her throat as she ran through the living room. She didn't care about her stupid hair but she was so deeply hurt that Ramona had intentionally gone out of her way to make her life hell. She just wanted to get along, perhaps even be friends, but it seemed that it wasn't going to happen.

"Abbey," Tré called after her as she shot up the steps, "What's wrong?" She rounded quickly and looked wildly at him.

"What's wrong?" She reiterated, "This is what's wrong!" She ran back down to him and turned showing him the tangled mess. His eyeliner rimmed eyes narrowed and he oscillated toward Ramona, who was just walking in the room with a superior smile.

He pushed past Abbey and came to stand before Ramona who was looking significantly less smug under his angry gaze.

"We're going to have a talk," He told her grievously. Abbey looked fearfully to Frankito, who seemed to be smiling at Ramona's expense. Abbey had never seen this side of Tré and blamed herself that his daughter had to. He took Ramona by the wrist and pulled her into the kitchen a scowl on his face. Abbey had all but forgotten about the broken brush head dangling painfully from her hair, all she could focus on was that she was ruining things as always.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Tré was trying to contain his anger and Ramona had regained her composure.

"Why?" He asked then with his back turned away from her.

"It wasn't on purpose," Ramona equivocated poorly.

"Bullshit," He shouted, "It was an accident just like all the other crap you've done this week?"

"S-she told you that stuff?" Ramona asked her eyes wide.

"She didn't need to," Tré imparted, "All you have to do is look at her."

It was Ramona's time to become angry.

"What's up with you two anyway?" She demanded with her hand on her hip.

"We're friends," Tré told her, as Abbey had. Ramona scoffed.

"I'm not that clueless and neither are you," She proclaimed with vexation, "I've seen the way she looks at you. It's like you're the greatest thing that ever happened to her." Tré was quiet for a moment and Ramona had thought he had conceded.

"S-she needs me," He said softly after a moment, "No one's ever needed me." Ramona frowned up at her father.

"I need you," She muttered staring down at the floor. Tré softened significantly and placed a hand on his daughters chin, forcing her to look back up at him.

"It's not the same thing," He confessed, "You have me and your mom, she has no one."

"Why is that your problem?" Ramona interrogated. Tré became quiet then, his blue eyes focused on his Converses. Ramona looked at his expression for a brief moment and laughed bitterly.

"How old is she, dad?" She asked shrilly, "A whole three years older than me?"

"I-it's not like that," Tré muttered helplessly.

"Then what is it like?" Ramona all but screamed, "She's a kid! She has no life experience!"

Tré became serious, his thin lips pulled into a defensive frown, "You don't know the things she's been through." Ramona bared her teeth in anger.

"You think you do!?" She laughed rancorously, "You only know what she's told you."

"I could say the same about you, sometimes," Tré retorted without thought. Ramona looked as though Tré had slapped her. She turned and started from the room.

Abbey had heard nearly the entire exchange and as Ramona flew past her out the door Abbey thought, 'I caused this, I need to fix it,' and ran out after her. By the time she made it out the door Ramona was already far down the street. Abbey ran as fast as her short legs would take her but with the legs of an ice skater, Ramona was much quicker. Abbey's pace slowed to a crawl, yet Ramona seemed unfazed until she tripped. Abbey gasped and despite the stitch in her side and the brush head banging against her skull, thrust herself forward full force.

When Abbey, panting like a dog, had caught up to Ramona she was picking herself up from the concrete. Abbey gently touched Ramona's shoulder and she turned and gave her a scathing look. Abbey quickly removed her hand and backed up.

"Ramona," She pleaded, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ramona snapped bitingly.

"That I'm creating turmoil between your dad and you," Abbey explained breathlessly. Ramona softened and sighed.

"It was already there," She confessed to Abbey, her blue-green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, "If it's not you it's the band or a million other things."

"I understand," Abbey sympathized, "but why me?"

Ramona thought about it a moment.

"You're becoming the center of his attention," She told Abbey simply, sitting down on the curb.

"But we're just fri-," Abbey initiated before Ramona cut her off.

"Cut the crap," Ramona snarked as Abbey sat beside her, "I know my dad." Abbey blushed but looked Ramona in the face, her green eyes serious.

"You need to tell him how you feel, I think he believes you don't care either way," Abbey advised her, "When you're here I'll stay out of the way. Maybe spend a couple days with a friend."

"I'm sorry about your hair," Ramona told her with smile at her mischief.

"I don't freaking care," Abbey informed her with a chuckle. Ramona rolled her eyes at Abbey's indifference but smiled.

"You're okay," She expressed pulling her long hair from its ponytail.

"And you only have one day left to spend with your dad," Abbey reminded her, "You should get back."

So they walked side by side back down the street back to Tré's house. Tré stood in the yard helplessly, his bright eyes wide with worry. He started to apologize as they came near but Ramona simply threw herself into his arms and he smiled curiously over at Abbey, his eyebrow raise. She simply shrugged and left them to talk.

As Abbey stepped into Adrienne's office, Sofia in tow, she wore a black beanie that Tré had leant to her.

"What's so ridiculously important that you had to interrupt my latte?" Sofia asked chomping on a piece of gum as she shut the door. Abbey removed the hat and turned for Sofia to see the damage. Sofia gasped and ran forward.

"How did this happen?" She demanded picking at the choppy hair at the back of Abbey's head.

"Ramona," Abbey explained simply, "but you were right though, she just missed her dad." Sofia rolled her eyes and left to get a pair of scissors.

At 5 on the dot, Tré pulled up to the curb in Gypsy, wearing his aviator sunglasses. She waved and skipped toward the cherry red Comet and hopped inside. She pulled her seatbelt on and smiled over at him. He removed his sunglasses then observed her freshly cut bob haircut with a smirk.

"Problem?" She asked her cheeks burning under his gaze. He put Gypsy into gear and they started towards home.

"You look really different," He informed her focusing on the road.

"Good different," Abbey inquired as her hair blew easily back from her face, "Or bad different?"

He regarded her from the corner of his eye before muttering, "Definitely good." Abbey's face glowed red.

After pulling into the driveway, Abbey unbuckled her seatbelt and began to get out. Tré placed a hand on her arm to stop her. She turned to him and smiled with bemusement.

"T-thanks for talking to Ramona," He said his hand gently moving to rest on hers. Rouge quickly blossomed in her sharp cheeks.

"I -it's not a big deal," Abbey murmured looking at him from under her eyelashes, "I think she was just looking for a way to show you how much she missed you."

"It sucks it had to be at your expense," Tré mention his wide blue eyes piercing her green.

"It's okay," Abbey confessed touching her short hair, "I was looking for a reason to get a haircut."

Tré drew near, then. He tentatively reached forward and stroked her golden brown hair.

"At least there's that," He uttered. Abbey eyes grew wide as he looked at her from beneath hooded eyelids. His soft hand came to rest delicately on her cheek. As she felt his hot breath against her skin, her body reflexively leaned forward to meet him.

Their lips met softly, at first, testing the waters. After a moment, Tré pulled Abbey's body into his arms as the kiss deepened. His hands twined in her hair and she softly stroked the stubble on his cheek. Her heart thudded in her chest as his tongue skimmed her bottom lip begging for entry which she obliged. He pulled away for a second, leaving Abbey unsatisfied. He pressed his thin lips to her temple sending fresh waves of heat to her lightly tanned skin.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," Tré whispered in a husky voice. He pulled back to read her reaction. She stared breathlessly back at him, her eyes wild with electricity. She said nothing and simply replied by pressing her lips to his, once more.


	9. Too Much Too Soon

That Saturday, Abbey woke to the sound of Tré snoring down the hall and grinned. Shortly after the first kiss, Tré had had to leave to drop Frankito at Claudia's for the weekend and for the rest of the day, they had struggled to distract themselves from each other. Eventually, they had resigned to taking a drive to Crown Beach but the scenery only made the whole ordeal worse. As the waves crashed down on the beach and the sunset streaked across the skyline, they had given up and she was in his drum-strengthened arms, again. Now, Abbey stretched and shoved from under the blankets. She padded from the room and down the hall. She came to stand in the threshold of Tré's open door.

He lay hugging his pillow to his chest, his auburn hair sticking out in every direction. She smiled down on him with admiration. She tentatively stepped inside the cluttered room and to his side. He smirked in his sleep and Abbey wondered what he was dreaming about. Slowly, she leaned over, lightly touched his stubbly cheek and shivered with indulgence. Gradually, he opened his blue eyes and smiled up at her. He turned his head and delicately kissed her palm. Her cheeks flamed as she took her hand away and sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He sat up on his elbow and looked her over.

Her brown, curly hair was messy and yesterday's eyeliner was smudged under her eyes. She tried to shy away and look down but he caught her chin gently and pulled her down to kiss her lips. She felt light headed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. With that, his muscular arms pulled her against him. Her skin tingled at his every touch and the kiss deepened. They lie intertwined, then, her fingers tangled in his auburn hair. His fingers skirted the skin of her waist beneath her T-shirt and she melted against him, breaking away only to pull in a ragged breath.

As the moments went on, the more intensity grew between them. He pulled away for a moment to nuzzle her neck and she murmured with desire. Without thinking, Tré slipped his hand inside her shirt and unto Abbey's marred back. His fingertips drifted over her disfigured skin and automatically, she froze. As he realized what he'd done, he pulled his hand from her shirt, too late. She pulled away from him, her green eyes wild with trepidation.

"I-I'm going to go, now," She muttered, suddenly squirming from his grip. He grabbed her hand as she stood from his bed but she turned and gave him a pleading look and reluctantly, he let go. Tré sighed as she scurried from his room and down the stairs.

Once she was downstairs, she locked herself in the bathroom. She felt the dam breaking in her mind. She couldn't keep it out, she couldn't forget the face. She set her teeth to fight the urge to scream as her brain flooded with memories of cold steel to her skin, the smell of burning flesh as cigarettes seared her and the biting hoarseness from shrieking in pain. The name scorched in her thoughts. She shook with fury and ripped her shirt over her head.

She turned to examine her scars in the mirror. Her eyes widened in the terror she had so long put off, as she looked over her shoulder. Thick, harsh X's covered her skin, each about 3 inches, all along her spine. Smaller, round mutilations dotted her back in no specific pattern. She dropped to sit on the floor, pulled her legs against her bare chest and wept into the knees of her pajama pants.

Tré knocked at the door, softly, then.

"I'll be out in a minute," Abbey whimpered tearfully. Outside the door, Tré stood with his blue eyes full of pain. He leaned his forehead against the door and helplessly listened Abbey's sorrowful keening.

"Abbey, I didn't mean to," He began, his voice thick with emotion and sleep.

"Tré, it's okay, it's not your fault," She reassured him between sobs, "I'm just freaking out a little." He frowned and started from the hallway and back upstairs, knowing it was the only thing he could do, short from breaking the door down, but we're not at that point yet.

A short while later, when Abbey's sobs had dissolved to hiccups in her throat, she pulled her shirt back on and stood. She stared at herself in the mirror and what she saw was pitiful. Her green eyes were red and watery, her bottom lip trembling and swollen and her nose running. She felt disgusted with herself as she blew her nose. She knew she was screwing things up between her and Tré and she knew the whole reason she had come here was to escape. She turned on the sink and splashed cold water on her face, trying to clear her mind, yet the memories stuck fresh in her thoughts as if they had only just happened. Trembling, she pushed from the bathroom door. She made her way up to Tré's room where he sat with his head in his hands. She felt ashamed as she looked down upon him. She had taken this beautiful, boisterous man and reduced him to this in just moments.

She knocked gently on the door frame and with that, he was on his feet. His blue eyes were haggard as he pulled her into his arms. It took all she had not to begin crying again but she fought it as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"W-who made you this way?" Tré asked his voice reluctant as though he didn't expect an answer. Anger coursed through her and she burrowed against him.

Against her will, she uttered, "His name… is Cameron." His name burned on her tongue. Tré simply kissed her forehead and seemed to be glad to have a name to direct his hate towards.

"Who was he to you?" Tré asked with morbid curiosity. She looked into his eyes and grimaced.

"I can't go into it, right now," She told him, honestly, "Someday. I'm still breaking a little."

For the next few hours, they lay downstairs on the leather couch, her head on his tattooed chest. Abbey thoughts were twisted and her emotions unpredictable. Tré was doing his best to coax a smile from her, which being himself wasn't all that difficult. Outside, it drizzled lightly, the sound, after a while, pulling Abbey down into quiet thoughtfulness. She thought then of Autumn, how she had bravely saved her life and the phone number hanging on the fridge. Tré frowned then, a look unbefitting of him.

"Don't," She uttered, softly touching his prickly cheek.

He smirked at her touch, "Don't what?"

"Don't be serious," She pleaded with him, "That's not you."

"Despite popular belief, I'm not a total jackass, all the time," Tré told her with his eyebrow rose.

She giggled and poked the tip of his nose, "Most of the time."

"Okay, most of the time," He admitted with a grin before his face became stern, "but I can be serious."

"I don't like that," Abbey told him somberly, "I don't want you to change."

"Abbey," Tré said then, "I'm 42. I'm always changing." She took his round face in her small hands, then and kissed his lips before jumping to her feet.

"Where are you going?" He inquired playfully pouty.

She skittered off to the kitchen and called back to him, "I've got to make a phone call." She grabbed the house phone from its crib and dialed the number from the fridge. Autumn answered on the second ring and Abbey heard child-like laughter in the background.

"Autumn," She began, "Can you teach me to defend myself?"

After a half an hour of mild argument, Autumn was on her way. Abbey ran upstairs and changed into a T-shirt and jeans. Tré sat up as she jogged down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. He held his hands up in a questioning gesture as she approached him.

"I'm going to go spend a little time with Autumn," Abbey told him misleading her true intentions.

"I was going to take you with me to Jingletown, today," Tré informed her scratching his auburn hair. Despite the nearly crippling anger inside her, her eyes widened.

"I-I could have her drop me off," She suggested, attempting not to sound too eager. Tré smiled with satisfaction and gave her the address and a lingering kiss on the lips. A horn honked outside, sending Dooder running from Frankito's room, barking. She reluctantly pulled away and turned to the door.

Outside, Autumn sat impatiently in her black truck, a look of unease on her heart-shaped face. Abbey hopped eagerly in the passenger seat, excitement coursing through her veins for various reasons. She was beginning to convince herself that if she could protect herself, then she could be braver for Tré, possibly even be able to live with the horror of her past. She turned to Autumn, who watched her with disquiet.

"So where are we going to do this?" Abbey asked with enthusiasm. Autumn scoffed.

"Easy, killer," Autumn said shifting the truck into gear, "I've got to stop at my place and drop Alyx's lunch off." She gestured to a paper bag in between them. Abbey shrugged and leaned distractedly against the seat as they cruised down the streets.

Autumn's apartment was quaint but beautiful. The two-story building itself was ancient, the wood work was extremely intricate. It seemed to Abbey like it had been here for hundreds of years as she observed the ornate windows, along the building.

"How do you afford this place?" Abbey asked with awe as the headed inside. Autumn looked uncomfortable for a moment.

"I-I got a little assistance from the state," She admitted before quickly adding, "But mostly, I make decent tips at the coffee house."

Abbey simply nodded, she knew Autumn didn't like to accept help from others and didn't intend to chastise her for doing so. They started upstairs and into a narrow hallway. Autumn smiled tentatively at Abbey and unlocked her door. As soon as they crossed the threshold a small blonde version of Autumn, launched into her arms. Autumn laughed and squeezed the child gently before sitting her back down. Abbey looked observantly as her location. The apartment was quite nice but not overly decadent. The wood floors were polished to a sparkle, most likely by Autumn's hands. Her kitchen was small and homey, it made Abbey a little homesick.

A brunette man with a handsome yet serious face turned on the couch in the neat living room to face them as Autumn's daughter clamored back over to the television. Abbey gaped as realization hit. She turned to look at Autumn who was turning pink under his gaze.

"Abbey," Autumn told her sitting Alyx's lunch on the counter, "I'd like you to meet Paul." Paul stood then and began toward them. He thrust his hand forward and Abbey reluctantly shook it.

"You've put Autumn through a lot of worry," He told her simply, his gray eyes practically staring into her soul. Abbey grimaced and stepped back.

"Paul!" Alyx shouted, jumping on his back, "I'm hungry!" The seriousness melted from his face then as he pulled her arms tighter around his neck.

He planted a kiss on Autumn's cheek before taking off toward the walnut dining room table. Autumn smiled after him before grabbing Abbey's wrist and pulling her to the back of the apartment. She threw open a painted white door.

The interior screamed Alyx. The walls were painted purple with blue butterflies. Dolls and toys overflowed from a chest in the corner. A fluffy white bed was backed against the wall. Abbey smiled bemusedly.

"You painted the walls of your apartment?" Abbey asked her with curiosity.

"It was this way when we moved in," She divulged gleefully. Abbey followed quietly after her as she turned back towards the comfy kitchen, where Alyx munched on a green banana and Paul was spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast. Autumn placed a kiss on Alyx's forehead only for her to giggle and smack her in the face with her banana peel. Abbey laughed heartily and Autumn gave her a withering look. As they started towards the door, Paul called Abbey's name.

She turned with confusion. After what he'd said before, she was certain there was no friendship to be built, there.

"About what I said before," He began as he placed the toast before Alyx, "I'd have never met her if it weren't for you… So, thank you." Abbey grew perplexed and simply nodded.

"I'll see you, later," Autumn said rushing with embarrassment and shoved Abbey through the door.

As they drove down the city streets Abbey flushed with guilt.

"You came here because of me?" She asked Autumn, her voice shrill to her own ears.

"That's most of the reason," She admitted, her eyes focused on the road ahead, "I knew, if you were anywhere… You were here." Abbey blanched at the thought of her assumed demise.

"So," Abbey changed the subject, "You and Paul Wesley, huh?" Autumn's cheeks flamed at the mention of his name.

"We met at the park, I'm taking you to, actually," She told Abbey with a smile.

"He and Alyx seem to get along," Abbey observed.

"Paul loves Alyx," Autumn told her with a lingering grin. They were silent for a while as Autumn cruised toward Bushrod Park.

"So, what's up with you and Tré?" She inquired of Abbey then.

"I-it's complicated," Abbey uttered, chewing on her nails.

"So, have you guys…. You know?" Autumn interrogated casually.

Abbey's eyes widened.

"Shut up!" She shouted playfully, as the pulled into the parking lot.

"I'll take that as a no," Autumn snickered as she shifted into park. Abbey merely blushed and pushed from the passenger seat. They started off toward the soccer field.

"So, you're serious about this?" Autumn asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the field, without warning. Abbey tripped over her foot and almost fell, before she corrected her footing.

"Totally serious," She assured Autumn, awkwardly. Autumn assumed an offensive position.

She looked at Abbey soberly, "then there's only one real way to go about this." With that, she lunged at her.

A few hours later, as Autumn inputted the address of Jingletown Records into her phone for directions, Abbey lay against the passenger seat, panting. For the first 45 minutes there was virtually no improvement as Autumn pummeled her over and over. Autumn repeatedly attempted to show her defensive maneuvers, near fruitlessly. To both of their surprise as she grew tired, she more easily grasped Autumn's movements and learned to pick up on her ques. Though Abbey sighed contentedly as she stared off at the treacherous yet bewitching metropolis surrounding them, Autumn was unsated.

"We're going to have to do this a few times a week," She huffed in frustration. Abbey frowned.

"I thought we had made progress," Abbey said petulantly.

"Not enough," Autumn retorted crossly, "not enough to save your life."

Abbey frowned and glared down at her red, scraped hands. As they pulled into the parking lot of Jingletown, Abbey spotted Tré's brown Houndstooth van parked near the door and she perked up right away. Inexplicably, she smiled over at Autumn.

"Thanks, call ya later," Abbey shouted, pushing through the passenger door. Autumn shook her head incredulously. Abbey was already skipping to the door.

"That girl has issues," Autumn chuckled as she pulled away.

Abbey skittered to a halt at the glass door. She didn't know how to proceed and as she stared at her disheveled reflection, she began smoothing down her hair. Just then, Billie popped up inside the door, startling her. He laughed and pulled the door open.

"There's our little Green Day expert," He announced with a crooked grin. She blushed and smiled at him as he grabbed her elbow, gently.

"I need your opinion on something," He told her, towing her inside.

She hardly had time to look around at her surroundings as he pulled her into a crowded, cluttered sound booth, filled with even more pristine soundboards and instruments than Tré's practice room. He sat her down on a stool beside Mike, who was practicing an unfamiliar bass line and he closed the door. Tré smiled eagerly over at her from behind his drum set, a large pair of headphones over his ears and she had the urge to kiss him, there was just something about seeing him behind the drums that drove her crazy. Billie pulled his guitar, Blue from a stand and strung it over his shoulder. He looked at Abbey, then.

"This song is called 'Green Eyed Monster," He declared anxiously and as if given cue, Tré launched into a dreamy yet intricate beat, that reminded Abbey of the Foxboro Hot Tubs. Mike joined him, then, the unfamiliar bass line from before accompanying the pulse of the drums and fitting perfectly into place. Billie acquiesced with them with a sweet yet despondent measure. He began to sing into the microphone, his nasally voice reverberating through the speakers.

As she listened intently, she absorbed the lyrics as they came. He sang about his addictions, how his relationships had suffered and praying for the strength to change. He was the green eyed monster he sang about. As this realization dawned on her, tears of sorrow and pride slipped from her eyes. She smiled up at her tortured friend with appreciation. As the last notes of the song wound down, the three proficient men looked to her with appraisal.

"You've outdone yourselves," She uttered, sweeping the moisture from her cheeks. The three smiled at each other with satisfaction. They commenced with yet another song, without a word. Abbey was so grateful to be there with them. It was 11:30 before she realized that she hadn't moved in hours. By now, Billie was engrossed in his notebook again, a fulfilled look in his bright green eyes and an acoustic guitar strung over his shoulder. Mike and Tré had decided it would be a good idea to switch instruments, neither of them did especially well in the others' place but Abbey found it quite entertaining. She stood on stiff legs and meandered over to Tré. He smiled up at her as he attempted the pluck the strings of Mike's bass. She bowed over and kissed his perspiring forehead.

He stood and removed the bass from his lap and placed it in its stand. Abbey stared at him in bewilderment as his arms enclosed around her and he pressed his lips to hers' in a passionate and embarrassing kiss. After a moment, she breathlessly pulled away, turning her head to see Mike and Billie cracking up and buried her face in his chest.

"Tré," She muttered into his T-shirt, her cheeks bright red, "Not cool." He snickered and shrugged, "That's not the worst thing they've seen me do." Abbey didn't ask what the worst was and she didn't want to know.

A short while later, as Abbey and Tré, hand in hand, were preparing to leave, Billie stopped them in the parking lot.

He turned to Abbey, smirking gratefully, "Thanks for listening." She smiled over a Tré for a moment and released his hand. She grinned at Billie with commiseration, swiftly stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. His small body was tense for an instant before he laughed and squeezed her back.

"Thanks for existing," She breathed emotionally, "I'm really proud of you." She pulled away from him then and stepped back beside Tré who was beaming. She had always intended to tell him those things. They said goodbye and Billie started off toward his white Chevy Nova II at the end of the lot.

They started towards the van and Abbey stood looking on in confusion as Tré simply grabbed a two helmets from the back and locked the door. He shoved the smaller of the two into her arms and started back down the lot towards a large black motorcycle with Abbey following hesitantly behind. She stopped in her tracks as she saw it. He pulled the helmet over his gelled hair and smiled at her.

"T-Tré," She whispered, her voice quavering with uncertainty. He leaned in and kissed her softly.

"Trust me," He told her with a smirk as he pulled back.

"What about the van?" She squeaked as he placed the heavy helmet on her head.

"I've got it covered," He explained, straddling the motorbike. Her eyes were wide as the quiet night was then filled with the chainsaw like growling of the cycle. Tré kicked back the kickstand and patted the seat behind him.

She was reluctant as she mounted the seat behind Tré.

"Put your arms around me," He advised over the deafening sound of the engine and she obliged. She tightly held on to his waist and without warning he flew from the parking lot. Abbey's breath hitched in her throat as they propelled down the darkened street. The street lights blurred as Tré wove in and out of light traffic. Her pulse quickened as he turned sharply around a corner and leaned her helmeted head again his shoulder. As the streets grew more remote, Tré sped up to nearly illegal speeds.

Abbey's breath was shallow in her chest as she turned her head to look at the vague scenery flashing past her. It was oddly marvelous and exhilarating, despite the fact that she was terrified for her life. Gradually, her body began to relax against Tré, the wind in her eyes didn't burn quite so much and she found with surprise that she was enjoying herself. All too soon, they were slowing down into the driveway of Tré's home.

She sighed in relief as Tré parked the motorcycle and turned off the engine. He put down the kickstand and removed his helmet before stepping off of the bike. Abbey followed his lead and nearly toppled over her own feet but Tré caught her and lifted her off of the bike with ease. She frowned and blushed as he placed her back on her feet. She removed the helmet and Tré chuckled loudly in the silent night.

"What?" Abbey demanded with bemusement.

"Your hair," He told her simply, trying to contain his laughter. She gasped and smoothed her hair, futilely. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, leaving her smiling ear to ear.

Without warning, Tré took her into his arms and kissed her. This time, she didn't resist. She fervidly placed her dainty hand on his cheek. Tré lustfully grasped a handful of her hair and gently shoved her against the garage door. As the kiss deepened and she was overcome with the saccharine taste of his tongue, Tré grabbed her legs out from under her and wrapped them around his waist. She shuddered with titillation and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Just then, a set of headlights from a black Mercedes, they hadn't seen earlier, lit the driveway, alarming the both of them. Tré turned without setting Abbey down and squinted against the lights. The driver flipped the glaring headlights off and Tré begrudgingly placed Abbey on her feet. As the driver-side door of the Mercedes popped open, Tré took her hand and started toward the idle vehicle. A tall, skinny woman with a feline face and long dark hair stepped out on Stiletto heels and Tré stopped in his tracks. Abbey's heart skipped a beat and dread pooled in her stomach.

"D-Dena," Tré stuttered loosening his grasp on Abbey's hand, "What are you doing here?"


	10. Chump

Defeat was the one word that played on Abbey's mind as Tré released her hand. Dena teetered on her 6 inch heels and giggled as she caught herself on the handle of her car door.

"I was in the area and I've had a bit too much to drink," Dena laughed with an accent Abbey couldn't place.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Tré asked with surprising anger in his voice.

Dena stumbled forward and placed her hand on his arm and he quickly stepped back with an agonized look.

Dena rolled her eyes and gestured, "Tré, I thought we were past this."

Abbey only had the vaguest idea of what was going on. She knew that Tré and Dena had been engaged and that only a few short months later, photos had surfaced of Tré with someone else.

"I haven't returned your phone calls in the last year," Tré reminded her, "I don't know why you think I'm past it."

"We just wanted different things," Dena slurred, a bittersweet smile on her feline face. Abbey gasped before quickly slapping her palm over her mouth.

Both Tré and Dena turned to her, then. Tré bit his lip and frowned with chagrin. Dena looked her over as if just remembering what she had interrupted.

"You're Abbey, right?" She asked shoving a manicured hand toward Abbey, which she awkwardly shook.

"Who told you?" Tré asked with an eyebrow raised.

Dena scowled then, "Just a little birdy." Realization hit Abbey, then.

"Ramona!" Abbey exclaimed under her breath. Tré nodded at her morosely before turning back to Dena.

"What do you want, anyway?" He asked cantankerously. Dena smiled smugly.

"I need a place to sleep tonight," She said simply, swaying from side to side precariously.

"No," Tré shouted, shaking his head insistently, "No way!"

"But, what if I crash," Dena whined, with her bottom lip sticking out, "It'll be your fault."

"Shove it up your a-," Tré began agitatedly before Abbey placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her in confusion. She gave him a pleading glance. She didn't want Dena here even more so than he, but she knew he didn't need her on his conscience. He growled softly.

"You can sleep on the couch but you're out of here in the morning," Tré grumbled and started toward the door.

Dena squealed as if that was the greatest news she'd ever heard, kicked off her heels and threw them in the window of her car. Abbey hurried off after Tré, anxiety leaving her heart pounding. Tré sighed and unlocked the door. He started upstairs wordlessly, leaving Abbey standing awkwardly as Dena plopped down on the couch and began fiddling in her purse. She pulled out a lighter and pack of cigarettes. As she put the smoke between her lips, Abbey's breath caught in her throat. Abbey had been a smoker. Before. She had learned her lesson the hard way. She felt herself trembling as she fled up the stairs. Tré met her in the hallway, glowering with a blanket rolled up in his arms.

"She's… smoking," Abbey told him, her voice quivering. Tré rolled his eyes.

"I don't know how many times I've told her," He began before shouting down the stairs, "Goddamn it, Dena, put out the cigarette."

Dena cackled and continued to smoke as they came back down. Tré tossed the blankets down beside her and plucked the cigarette from her hand and tossed it out of the front door.

"You're no fun," Dena complained as she lie down on the couch, pulling the blankets over her. Abbey gaped at the two of them. She couldn't imagine Tré being the serious one. He shook his head and flipped the light off.

He continued into his room and she hesitated at the door. He turned and beckoned her inside. She reluctantly obliged as he kicked off his red Converses and sat on his bed. He took her into his arms, then.

"I'm sorry," Tré told her, his voice melancholy despite his obvious show of anger, before.

"Don't be," Abbey crooned, stroking his reddish-brown hair.

"I had almost forgotten about her and then she just shows up," He grumbled obstinately against Abbey's shoulder. She placed her slight hand on his routinely bristly cheek.

A provocative growl hummed in his throat and he placed his lips against her neck. Her pulse quickened and her eyelids fluttered closed as his soft, thin lips made their way to her ear. His hot breath left her skin pink in its wake. Her body reciprocated and they were face to face. As Tré's lips touched hers she remembered Dena's catlike face and pulled away.

"Tré," She whispered, "I'm not going to do this while your ex is in the house." He frowned at the reminder of Dena but nodded in ascent. She begrudgingly detached herself from him and sauntered from the room. That night, her sleep was far from placid. She dreamt that over and over, she was forced to witness Dena and Tré in the throes of passion.

She woke slowly the next morning, dreading the day ahead. She instantly noticed the absence of Tré's snoring from down the hall and her chest tightened. Warily, she shoved herself upright. With a shaky sigh, she began downstairs.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Dena stirred Irish crème into a cup of coffee. Tré grimaced as he noticed her at the island.

"Don't look so happy to see me," Dena remarked sealing the cap on her bottle of alcohol.

"Are you seriously drinking?" Tré asked with incredulity, "It's 10:30."

"Poor Tré," Dena chirped taking a gulp of her doctored coffee.

"What?" He demanded his blue eyes sharp with aggravation.

"Your old age has made you boring," She chuckled vivaciously.

Tré's face flushed with anger.

"Y-yeah, well your old age has made you… a bitch," Tré rebutted badly. Dena stood then, smiling toothily.

"You know, I like it when you talk dirty," She breathed and threw herself at him. At that moment, Abbey walked in. She wasn't angry or jealous, she felt not exactly relieved but the dread she had held on to evaporated. She simply shrugged and turned to leave. Tré shoved Dena off him and started after her.

He touched her shoulder and she shrugged him off.

"Really Tré," Abbey told him blankly, "It's not a big 's… what I expected."

Tré was taken aback.

He shook his head, "I didn't want that. I don't want her."

"Sure," Abbey remarked dubiously and grabbed the phone from its crib before darting up the stairs.

Once inside the spare room, she dialed Autumn's number, her knees pulled tightly to her chest.

"Hey, I'm about to go on," Autumn answered in a rush, "Everything okay?"

"Oh. Well, never mind, then," Abbey began with disappointment.

Autumn picked up on her tone of voice, "I mean I've got a second."

"Well," Abbey explained awkwardly, "Things got pretty intense last night. Between Tré and me, I mean. His ex-fiancé showed up, though and just now I walked in the kitchen and she was kissing him."

Without hesitation Autumn asked, "Did he look like he enjoyed it?"

Abbey thought about it a moment and admitted, "Well, no."

"There you go," Autumn told her hurriedly. The phone beeped to indicate another caller. Abbey told Autumn good-bye and clicked over.

"Hello?" She asked into the receiver.

"Abbey?" Ramona's chiming voice inquired.

"Ramona, I know you told Dena," Abbey sighed, running her fingers through her short hair.

"She showed up there?" Ramona questioned distantly. Abbey was quiet for a moment. From downstairs she heard the muffled shouts from Tré and pealing laughter from Dena.

"Yeah, she kissed your dad, earlier," Abbey revealed expecting satisfaction on Ramona's part. To her surprise, Ramona growled in aggravation.

"I called to GLOAT," Ramona shouted into the phone. Abbey winced and covered her ear as Ramona let loose a string of obscenities into the receiver. Downstairs, the door slammed and Abbey's eyes widened.

"Ramona, I gotta go," Abbey muttered and hit end on the phone. She jumped up from the bed and hastened from the room. She stared at her feet while she ran, willing herself not to trip. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Tré grabbed her midstep and pulled her against him, roughly. Once she was in his embrace, he pushed the hair back from her face and kissed her fiercely. His anger was emphasized in the force of which he kissed her, his fingers wound tightly in her brown hair. His early morning stubble stung against her sensitive skin, yet she welcomed it as his teeth grazed her bottom lip. They remained entangled in this manner, against the wall, for what felt to Abbey like hours, before Tré pulled back, his light-blue eyes blazing with emotion and his auburn hair mussed from Abbey's fingers.

"I'm going to promise you something," He told her, his thin lips pressed to Abbey's forehead.

"What's that?" She breathed, twining her fingers between his.

"I'll never be who you expect me to be," Tré affirmed, "I don't know if that's a good thing or not but-."

"Tré," Abbey cut him off, "Thank you." She placed her petite hand on his neck, which was warm with color. She looked meaningfully into his eyes and he gazed back down at her endearingly.

There was pounding on the front door, sending Dooder barking, instantaneously. Abbey and Tré both groaned botheration. They trudged to the door where Dena stood with mascara tears on her cheeks.

"My car won't start," She griped, her feline faced pulled back in an unattractive grimace. It turned out that she had left her lights on and had killed her battery. Tré had attempted to jump start the Mercedes, fruitlessly. Abbey sighed as Tré resolved there was no real solution but to drive to an auto parts store so Dena could replace the battery. So, they piled in Gypsy, Abbey begrudgingly taking the passenger seat, wondering why Dena didn't have someone who could do this sort of thing for her, but as Dena found endless things to nag about, the mystery was all but resolved.

Tré practically radiated annoyance as he explained to the salesmen the type of battery Dena's car required, since she, herself had literally no clue. Abbey was beginning to understand the dynamic of their former relationship. Abbey still found it odd that Tré had been the responsible one. Once back a Tré's, Abbey sat tentatively beside Dena on the hood of Gypsy, as Tré installed the battery into Dena's momentarily useless vehicle.

Though the circumstances weren't ideal, Abbey enjoyed watching Tré do things with him hands. She was watching him with admiration when Dena cleared her throat, less than subtly. She turned to look at her, slowly. Dena had calmed down and appeared almost bored.

"So, you know how into you he is, right?" Dena asked her, sharply. Abbey rolled her eyes. She found it funny that everyone kept telling her just how much Tré cared for her besides Tré, himself. 'Hasn't he though?' She asked herself, remembering their passionate moment, that morning. Finally, she nodded and smiled inwardly.

"I won't lie," Dena conceded, "I came here with bad intentions."

Abbey laughed bitterly. This much was obvious to her.

"I would've never guessed," Abbey told her sarcastically.

"I was wrong," Dena continued, she followed Abbey's eyes to Tré, who was nearly finished placing the battery, "When Ramona called me…"

She trailed off for a moment as if in thought, "I don't even want him back." Abbey was beginning to understand that despite all her issues, in the end, it was Dena who had left Tré. She scoffed then.

"You don't know what you had," Abbey told her simply.

Soon after, Tré got Dena's Mercedes running, none too soon for Abbey. Without so much as a real good-bye, Dena was backing down the driveway. By that time, Tré was due to pick up Frankito from Claudia's house. So they once again assembled inside Gypsy, Tré's arm draped over Abbey's shoulders.

Frankito was in a sour mood when he shoved his surfboard in the backseat. As he slammed the Gypsy's door, began on a tirade. It turned out that Claudia had begun seeing someone new and Frankito was not pleased. Abbey chuckled earnestly at Frankito's impression of what he described as a muscle-bound surfer.

"He actually tried to give me pointers on how to cross step!" Frankie exclaimed, his chin on the shoulder of the passenger seat, his lack of seat belt scaring Abbey to death.

Once they returned to Tré's house, Frankito headed straight for the practice room, muttering about a layback. Tré rolled his eyes and smirked as angry sounding chords seeped from upstairs. He sat with a sigh on the plush sofa and laced his fingers behind his neck. Abbey cautiously sat down beside him, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I'm sorry about this whole thing," Tré expressed, pulling her close to him.

"Why did she…," Abbey trailed off. She didn't know exactly where to begin with the multiple questions that plagued her mind.

"I met her a charity thing a few years ago," Tré initiated, staring off in thought.

"It all sort of happened fast. I was pretty hammered at the time. She sat down at the table next to Mike and me and just started talking. Five or six drinks later, she kissed me and before I knew it, we were spending almost every day together."

"She made me feel… young. She didn't really understand me but we had fun together. I mean, she wasn't exactly good for intelligent conversation but she could throw a bitchin' party." Abbey nodded attentively and motioned for him to go on.

"So, when the musical came out, I was high on life. I mean, obviously, the music was a big part but I was in the most serious relationship I'd been in since Claudia. I-I was happy," He faltered here. Abbey laced her fingers through his and squeezed his hand supportively.

"Before last show of the musical's tour, I bought a ring," Tré continued, his eyes closed in an agonized fashion.

"I gave it to her during 'When It's Time' and she said yes," He whispered, now.

"What… happened?" Abbey examined softly.

"I...I don't know," Tré muttered uneasily, "Everything was fine, then one day she just shoved my ring into my hand and told me it was over."

Tears welled in Abbey's eyes.

"You deserve so much better than that," She crooned, burying her face in his chest. He chuckled softly and stroked her hair. She pulled back to look up at him, a tear leaking from her glistening green eyes. Tré quickly swiped it away.

"Don't cry," He urged her, "Things are better, now. I… I've got you."

"You do," Abbey confirmed, smiling tearfully up at him. He smirked and kissed her lightly, that small exchange was enough to take away her breath. When he pulled away, his blue eyes were lustful. Without notice, he was on top of her, his arms on either side of her head, his breath hot on her face.

"Enough about that," Tré breathed fervidly, "Where were we?"


End file.
